The Weight of Glory
by Elwin Ransom
Summary: The tale of the Exile, Caius Lucullus, and his search for the missing Prodigal Knight. The Republic is teetering on collapse, while an unknown threat lurks in the Unknown Regions. Note: Message breaks re-inserted.
1. Prologue

Author's Notes: Hello everyone! All right, this is my first story, and I have to admit I'm a bit nervous about it. For reference, the title is taken from an essay by CS Lewis--so I didn't actually come up with it myself. Hooray for homages! But oh well, here I go.

Since it doesn't look like Kotor III will ever get made, I decided to try to write this and end the saga the way I would do it. The plot revolves around the Exile joining up with Bastila and some new friends to find Revan and take down the Sith Empire harbored in the Unknown Regions. While I can't make any promises about the quality of writing, I can ensure that there will be gray Jedi galore, uncharted worlds, strange aliens, romance (M!Revan/Bastila), and an attempt at a plot twist. I hope you'll forgive me for breaking canon a little bit, though. There are some characters that live at the end of K2 that I kill off, and one that is supposed to die that I have kept alive. So--sorry about that.

Much thanks to any of you who read and/or comment on this. If you want to tear me a new one and tell me this is the worst story you've ever read, that's cool too! Just please keep it constructive so I can learn from the mistakes. I'm new so I could use the help. :)

Special thanks to Lord Valentai, who is working as the beta for this piece. He somehow navigated my ocean of commas and provided priceless advice--not an easy task!

So, enough talking! Time to get the show on the road. Disclaimer: None of this is mine--it's all property of the nice people at Bioware, Obsidian, and anyone else that ever worked for anything Star Wars related ever.

**Prologue: Escape from Malachor V  
**

Another quake rattled through the chasm where he fell, the ceiling and walls tearing themselves apart. Exhaustion seized his lungs, gripping his chest with each brutal breath. He had collapsed on the ground, his back resting on the aged tiles, cracked and covered with dirt. His hands were extended outwards, body bruised, cut, and broken. The Exile, once a formidable Jedi, now was a pathetic clump of limbs and robes. His charcoal colored robes, that of a Gray Jedi, were charred and bloodied. He rested his shaven head on the dirt, ignorant of the collapsing structure around him. If his brown eyes had opened, he still might not have understood what was happening. But he did not, he simply laid there. Just to his right was the lifeless carcass of that abominable old woman, the one who caused all of it. Her manipulations and trickery resulted in the deaths of his friends and the Jedi. The Council, or what remained of it, was rounded up and their souls were consumed. He had followed her into this place—the very underside of the universe—a veritable hell. His ship crashed, the Echani girl was killed on impact. He had cavorted across the galaxy for months, and now had to fight his way through a seemingly endless barrage of insolent attackers, just to get his revenge and stop the old witch from wreaking havoc. He did. But now pure exhaustion was taking its terrible toll.

Even after he had slain her, he awaited his own death. He wanted to get up, run away, flee the imminent destruction via the collapsing academy, but he could not muster the strength. He was so tired, even the face of death could not instigate a spark within him. Sleep, the eternal sleep of death, seemed so welcoming, and so final. It did not matter whatever he had hoped for, though, even had he wanted to escape, he could not run. His left foot was severely damaged in the fight. He could not feel it, and vaguely wondered if it was still attached. He instinctively glanced down at it, cringed at the warped direction it pointed, jutting inwards toward his other foot. The exhaustion was so great; however, that he could not even feel the pain. All he could feel was the lethal sedative of tiredness slowly seeping through his muscles, easing his agony and lulling him into the blackness. He was just about to succumb when he heard a voice yelling.

"Caius! Caius!" it called. "There you are!"

He recognized the voice immediately, one of his apprentices: Atton.

"Hold on, you bastard, we can't come this far and let you die!" The arrogant pilot suddenly came into Caius's blurred view, his figure stooping over him. "Can you hear me?" he asked, "Damn it! Come on, are you in there?!"

"I'm so…tired," the Exile answered groggily.

"You're bleeding," Atton said matter-of-factly. "We've got to get you out of here; in case you didn't notice, the whole place is coming apart."

"I am?" Caius asked deliriously, "And who's we?"

"I'm here," spoke a second voice, a woman's voice. A slender girl, layered in robes matching the auburn red of her hair entered his peripheral.

Atton spoke for her, "Mira's with me. I don't know what happened to the others; I saw Bao-Dur get killed a moment ago..."

"There's no time," she said. At that, they both gripped one of his arms and hoisted him up. Now the pain was real. The sleep started to fade, and his foot seared with the horrible sensation. He let out a grunt, grimacing.

Mira nearly fell, gasped, "He's too heavy to drag. Come on, Caius, can you walk at all?"

He jerked his good leg into an awkward position under himself and stood up with Atton's help. Again the pain jolted through his leg, his eyes automatically shutting as he winced. A huge crag of earth smashed into the ground next to them.

"That's our cue to leave," Atton said dryly. "Come on Mira."

She pulled his arm up again and they made their way to the exit. The Exile hobbled horribly as the other two strained to carry him out of the core of the decrepit academy. The walls and ceiling continued to melt away as the planet was being rent into thousands of pieces.

"The Mass Shadow Generator was re-activated by Bao-Dur's remote," Atton said, over the din of the falling structure, "we don't have much time."

"Great," gritted Caius through clenched teeth, "all I needed was for that to happen again."

The entangled group ambled their way into the labyrinthine halls of the academy, desperately short on time. They hobbled up to a door, hoping it would be a quicker way out than in. Atton tried to open it, but it was locked.

"Damn it," he cursed. "Hold on a second."

He set Caius down and began tinkering with the lock. Caius slumped against the wall, gasping for breath, and stared up into Mira's eyes. She was overcome with concern, noticing the trail of blood that followed in their wake, leaking off of Caius's bad leg. "Here," she said, "I'll help." She closed her eyes and concentrated, funneling her energy into his body, trying to mend his mangled appendage.

Mira was one of his pupils that he actually liked. The others only served to frustrate and complicate matters—they were good enough people, but their insecurities were nearly intolerable. But they were all gone now; Nihilus killed Visas, the Handmaiden was dead and so was Bao-Dur. Canderous was the only Force blind member of his crew, but he had stayed behind on Telos with his resurrected Mandalorian fleet. Only Mira and Atton remained, his best students. Caius's eyes blurred as she tried to heal his wounds, only vaguely focused on her face as she concentrated intently on him. He tried not to slip into unconsciousness, suddenly thought about when he trained her. She was very young, pretty in her own way, almost like a daughter to him. The rebellious one who never did exactly as she was supposed, but still was there when you needed her. In his frazzled state, he felt a degree of pride that he was responsible for turning her into the level-headed adult she was now, not the confused bounty hunter she had been.

"Got it," Atton yelled, jerking Caius out of his adulatory stupor. The group then hoisted him back up and rolled through the door.

"I think it's right around this corner," Atton said as the academy convulsed once again, this time even more violently. They wheeled widely around it, struggling still to maintain balance. At the end of the red and black hallway, a huge gaping door hung openly partially, damaged by the falling objects. The distinctive red eye that marked the center of the door was completely smashed in by a gargantuan rock. "Look! I can see outside!" exclaimed Mira.

"Just a little bit further," Atton said, "the _Ebon Hawk_ is crashed into a cliff face outside, but I think we can get her to fly again." There was another seizure. "Damn, I hope we can get her to fly again."

The group fought through their individual pains to stride down the hallway, Mira and Atton working their steps in unison so as to lessen the stress on Caius. He leaped in between their steps, his good leg bounding and causing his left to hurt with each impact with the ground.

"Come on, come on," Atton said subconsciously, willing them to keep going.

They burst through the exit, thrusting themselves outside in one last gasp of strength.

"There's the _Hawk_," Atton said. The loading ramp was jutting open, jarred as badly as Caius's battered foot. Its gaping hole begged them to enter it. They struggled across the gray, dirt valley towards the once-beautiful ship, now a weathered and beaten vessel that barely looked space-worthy. The dark sky was eclectic. Lightning shattered through the black clouds, the bleak atmosphere a sign of the planet tearing itself apart. The clouds whirled and spun, the earth seemingly spinning; a loud whirring noise emanating from every direction as each piece of the planet hurled into space, gravity playing havoc with the world.

Atton was cursing under his breath; Caius could not hear it, focusing intently on his steps. The pain was tremendous. He was increasingly distancing himself from reality, the agony shutting his senses off from the rest of the world. He tried desperately to focus on anything to keep himself there. His head was dizzying due to loss of blood, so he tried to count each time he took a step. _1, 2, step, 1, 2, step, 1, 2, step, 1…_

The unmistakable crack of a blaster rifle echoed throughout the valley, just as they approached the beached ship. Almost instantly, a shrill scream of a young woman pierced through the valley. Caius immediately felt himself slam into the ground, the support on his right side suddenly gone.

"No!" Atton yelled. A yellow blade suddenly whirled into view, spinning in front of his body. Several more blaster shots were repelling, the blade cracking with each impacted shot. Atton thrust his hand out and clenched the air. Caius tried to shift his graying view, saw a lone Sith trooper clutching his throat. The man fell to his knees, gasping for air, and then rolled onto the ground, not moving.

"Mira! Mira!" yelled Atton as he put away his weapon. "Oh no, oh no," he muttered to himself. "Hold on, Mira, come on!"

Caius shifted on the ground, looked over at Mira. Her eyes were closed, her teeth clenched in response to pain. Her back was arched and her hands were underneath her, trying to hold onto her wound, somehow alleviate the pain. Caius felt himself yanked up from the ground by his arms, then dragged across the ground. He grimaced in pain as his bad leg bounced and slammed into rocks scattered about. He was pulled onto the crumpled loading ramp, and then felt himself fall back onto the ground, his grip on reality shaking. Atton's body suddenly leapt over him, sprinting towards Mira. She still twisted on the ground slightly, her young face contorting with pain. The sight of someone so close to him getting shot in the back was as much mental torment as the physical pain from his shredded leg. His mind was swimming. Caius heard Atton yell as he lifted her body off of the ground. Her arms fell lazily towards the ground, dangling uselessly as he hurried her back to the ship.

Caius, gradually forcing himself through his mental haze, tried to reason what to do. He knew all he could do was get inside the ship's airlock, when Atton brought Mira inside, he'd have to close the airlock as soon as possible. He rolled himself up and, using just his upper body strength, pulled himself up the loading ramp towards the inside of the beat-up spacecraft. He collapsed from fatigue, simply fell to the steel ground and gasped for air. Atton launched up the ramp, moving at and otherworldly speed, and let Mira slide onto the ground next to Caius. He slammed the button to close the airlock, and whirled around towards the cockpit.

The Exile tried to move, looked over at Mira. She was still breathing, though each inhalation was labored. A horrid, wheezing cough slithered from her through each time she tried to breathe, her chest quivering under the stress. The airlock doors smacked shut, and the _Hawk_ began rumbling, shaking in an attempt to free itself from its rocky prison.

"Come on, baby, come on!" Atton shouted over the chaotic noise.

Caius pushed himself closer to Mira. He grabbed her wrist, could feel a faint pulse. His consciousness was itself fading. He forced himself through the gray; felt he had to help her. He reached out to the Force for the first time since his duel with Kreia, tried to harness it and pour its healing energy into Mira's dying body. The action nearly knocked him out. Communication with the Force was difficult since it was severed from him, in extreme states of panic and pain like this, it was almost impossible. He lapsed into blackness for a second, felt his head fall back into his shoulder, and then awoke again.

"Mira," he said, "can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me." He was in tears now, doubled by his physical pain and fear for Mira.

"I..." she croaked quietly. Her eyes blinked open slightly, they focused on his, red. The ship rocked violently and they both skidded into the wall of the ship. The massive spacecraft shuddered as it forced itself off of the ground. Atton shouted with excitement from the cockpit. Caius covered Mira's broken body, tried to shield her from the rocking of the ship. Her breaths were even more labored now, each one extracting a quiet gasp from her throat.

"Just hang in there," he said, trying to soothe her. "We're…going to make it."

She couldn't talk, she only stared at him, her eyes swimming in pure, real terror.

Caius still defied his own pain and tried to comfort her, she couldn't talk, neither would he. He was not even sure he could make sense. His mind was fading as the adrenaline began to wear. He was confronted with dream-like images of his past. He remembered Mira, helping her with her clumsy lighstaber strokes, and helping her control the Force. He had felt as if he were teaching a child how to ride a bicycle. And now this paternal affection for her was raging inside of him. He felt so completely helpless, she was just lying there next to him, dying, and he could do nothing. His head throbbed, he floated out of consciousness again, dizzying and almost falling head first into the ground. Another cough shook him out of it.

She shook and a little blood came out of her mouth. Her eyes reddened slightly more, and she gurgled, trying to speak. Her lips moved slightly, and he leaned in, trying to hear what she was saying. He lifted her head up off of the ground, his own awareness of pain becoming increasingly distant.

Another cough, this time a word barely fought its way through her bloodied hacking, he only heard, "Thanks." His eyes watered, she tried again, "Thank you...for teaching...me."

"No," Caius said, feeling he had to comfort her, "It's no..." he stumbled, "you're...welcome..." The words seemed horribly normal, awkward, for such a horrendous situation; he thought he must say something better. "You can't...go," he said. His dizziness at this point caused him to feel like an observer to the situation. He felt as though he wasn't actually speaking, the words coming out of his mouth were automatic, he was merely watching and listening.

Mira faintly smiled, her bloodshot eyes still piercing through him. Atton shouted from the background again.

"Mira?" Caius said.

There was no reply.

"Mira...?"

Her eyes glazed over. Caius tried to grab her wrist to feel her pulse, but he could not get his bearings. The ship stabilized, but he was in the throes of agony once again. He felt Malachor tearing itself apart, thought, _Not again, I can't do this again._ He let Mira's head down and fell onto the ground. He started shuddering, beginning to cry. His mind was fracturing after having watched one of his most beloved friends get shot, his soul was getting eaten away by the second destruction of Malachor, and his body would not stop bleeding. He simply gave up, defeated.

Atton leaped around the corner of the ship and into the airlock, he said, "We're going to make it." He paused for a moment, stared down in horror, "Mira…" He heaved her off of the ground, muttered quietly, "_She's alive_…_I can save her_."

Caius said nothing, just lapsed into darkness.

_Author's Notes: There we are. Sorry that was a little darker than I would have liked--think of it as a side effect to writing about Malachor. The rest of the story won't be so grim. Thanks again to anyone who reads this. If anyone wants more of this I'll try to get some up ASAP. If not, that's cool, too. Just make sure you tell me if you want more, because otherwise I'll never know and just leave it alone. Take care!_


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Hello once again, everyone. I got some modest feedback from a few readers last time, so thank you. The reviews are always appreciated. Thanks to **What contented men desire**, **6tailedninja**, and **Denizen47 **for leaving their thoughts. And thanks to **Lord Valentai** for leaving a review even though he already has read this story. :P

Now, I'm going to try and post one chapter per week for as long as I can. Hopefully I'll be able to keep up with this schedule. I may change days a few times, but it'll generally be once a week unless something goes horribly wrong. That, as of now, is what I am committed to. Thanks again, everyone, and now I'm done wasting time with notes. On with the show!

**Part I: Out of Exile**

**Chapter One**

There was nothing, the epitome of emptiness. Caius felt, somehow, that he no longer existed. He drifted in and out of coherent thought, musing to himself. He then suddenly realized the contradictory nature of his monologue and awoke.

He found himself in the medbay of the _Ebon Hawk_. He tried, without much success, to determine what had, exactly, taken place on Malachor. But he could not articulate it to himself, not without mixing up the timeline. He looked around, tried to get bearings of his surroundings. He shifted himself up, back against the head of the bed, and stabilized himself. He felt humidity, perspiration from his unpleasant sleep. He ran his hand of his head, trying to wipe off the sweat. Looking around the room he eventually noticed his own foot-his previously shattered left appendage was encased in some sort of black boot. He blinked and looked up. A silhouette appeared in his peripheral and startled him slightly. He rubbed his eyes and squinted, his brown irises shrinking in the darkness of the ship.

"Good to see you're up," said the voice, Atton. "For a while there I thought you weren't going to make it."

Caius grunted, put his hand to his head. His blurred vision eventually brought Atton into focus, although that didn't lessen the strangeness of seeing him in his brown Jedi robes. No matter how skilled Atton got at wielding the Force, it just seemed as though he didn't belong in those robes. Caius asked, "How long was I out?"

Atton strolled into the medbay, "About 18 hours."

Caius marveled at the time, barely muttered, "...Wow."

Atton moved over to the foot of his bed and knocked on the boot on Caius's broken boot.

"Where are we?" Caius asked.

"Aren't you going to ask about this cast on your foot?" Atton asked, seemingly irritated.

"Uh, I guess...Did you put it there?"

"Damn right I did," Atton said arrogantly, "I just wanted you to know how hard it was. I had to set the bone, not a pretty sight. Good thing you were unconscious; the noise it made almost knocked me out."

"Well...thanks, I guess," Caius responded. "What about Mira?" He had no hope that she had survived, but he had to ask.

"She..." Atton paused, his face drooped, but Caius could not read his emotions. He seemed sad, but it was the not the reaction one would expect from a friend dying. "She's still alive," he said. Caius was perplexed, hadn't she died in his arms?

"Where is she?" Caius started, "I...barely remember."

Atton answered his question by moving over to left side of the room. He grabbed a huge gray tarp that had been covering a large tank and yanked it off, revealed Mira's body floating helplessly amidst a tank of kolto. "She's unconscious. The pain and shock knocked her out. She's in a coma right now. Unless we can get her to a real doctor, she won't last very long."

"We'll have to do that as soon as possible," Caius said. He was amazed; he had thought for sure that Mira had died. The intensity of the situation had probably scrambled his mind. He wasn't thinking clearly, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to him that she was still alive. However, she was still in critical condition, it would take a lot of medical personnel to save her.

"That's part of the problem," Atton responded, bringing Caius back down to earth. "The hyperdrive was damaged in the crash and we fell out of transit somewhere in the outer rim."

Caius sighed, let his head fall back, but he hit it against the steel wall of the ship. He rubbed the back of it, said, "Why can't anything ever be easy? Where are we going now?"

"Taris, it was the closest planet that we have the coordinates of."

"Taris?" Caius responded, "but it was destroyed. They won't have a hyperdrive there."

Atton shrugged, said, "We've got no other choice. Besides, that's a big planet, there's got to be something there." He put the tarp back on Mira's tank. He continued, "We're going to have to power down every single superfluous system if we're going to make it, though. I've gone over the numbers a dozen times: the only thing we can afford to keep on is the kolto tank and the navicomputer."

Caius rolled his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes, decided to ask about something else. He said, "I thought for sure Mira was dead… how did you save her?"

"It wasn't easy," Atton responded. "I thought she was dead too, but her pulse was still there. It was faint, and irregular, but I figure that was a better sign than nothing. I had to stop her bleeding, so I dressed the wound with some of the bandages we had left. I hooked her up to a steady drip of kolto through the IV—and once she stopped bleeding, she became a little steadier. That's when I put her into the tank. Considering she hasn't woken up, she's certainly in a coma—who knows how long she'll take to get out of it. If we even have that long."

"That's pretty impressive," Caius said simply, "I didn't know you knew anything about medicine."

"I don't," Atton said bluntly. "But when you're on a ship with two dying friends, you tend to pick up some things pretty quick."

"Well, thank you," he answered. He switched the conversation again. "What about the rest?" he suggested, trying to somehow divert the talk. He didn't want to think about Mira's dire situation at the moment.

"Nothing new to report. I didn't tell you exactly what happened to Bao-Dur, though. He was with us right before we found you. We were fighting...a legion of Sith acolytes, who knows where they all came from, and they overwhelmed him. Mira and I used the time he bought to elude the horde and find you." Atton turned, his back towards Caius. He put his hand against the wall and sighed, clearly the deaths weighing on him. "So much...death," he said. "All of them..."

Caius didn't say anything.

"It's ironic, really," Atton said. "It was just you and me on Peragus, and now, one catastrophe later...it's just us again. And I feel so...sick. All of them...even the ones I didn't like...they're dead."

His words stung Caius as well, all of the people who'd followed him were dead, except his pilot—and Mira was technically still clinging to life. They all had their flaws and annoyances, but they were, at least, like some sort of demented family. He did miss them. He was curious, though, so he asked, "What about G0-T0? He's not still alive, is he?"

"No, thank all that is good and holy," Atton said, turning back around, "HK killed him."

Caius felt a wave of relief, the first such sensation in...some time. He asked, "How do you know that?"

"Stupid droid won't shut up about it."

"Won't? He's here?"

"Yeah," said Atton, "in all his glory." His voice had some veiled disgust in it. "He and T3 were on the ship when we took off. All he's been talking about since you were out was how he did it. It's been a long 18 hours."

Caius heard a faint noise from the hallway, the distinct sound of metal joints creaking as they walked. "HK?" he called.

"Greeting: Master, you are alive!" HK roared as he burst through the entrance to the medbay. "I've only been able to tell the annoying, pilot meatbag about my achievements."

Atton moaned, "Yeah, and you told me once every 13 minutes. I started counting I got so bored. You can only play pazaak with T3 for so long, too. And the freaking trash can cheats, I found out the hard way."

"Did you really kill G0-T0?" Caius asked.

"Proud: Yes, master. Allow me to explain. Extrapo-"

Caius interrupted him, said, "HK, I love you."

"Disgust: Master, that is sickening!" the droid said, recoiling in horror, "I cannot abide your presence if you insist on speaking that way. Have you no sense of decency?" The droid then bolted out of the room.

Atton's mouth dropped. Caius spoke for him, "That's how you get him to leave."

"I'll make a mental note."

Caius tried to get up, but Atton cautioned him, said, "I'd take it easy if I were you. You lost a lot of blood; your body probably hasn't recovered yet. Don't move too quickly or too much at a time."

"I can handle it," Caius said defiantly.

Atton shrugged and lifted his hands, said, "If you say so."

* * *

For the next three days, Atton and Caius sulked around the halls of the ship, unable to speed up or slow down time. They would sometimes speak to each other, followed by prolonged intervals of oppressive silence. HK was his usual wacky self, his eccentricities multiplying every time T3 pulled a prank on him. But generally the two men resigned to sit in the cockpit and merely wait. Wait for anything, the approach of Taris, even the passing of a random space object was intriguing. Caius usually spent the time fretting over Mira. Her condition had not worsened, but then again that was hardly possible. She was, for all intents and purposes, clinically dead. Her organs were simply refusing to stop working. She was living on borrowed time and there was no way he could speed up the process and get her to help faster. He felt helpless.

Whenever the two men would speak, they would usually format their discussions the same way. If you heard one of their conversations, you'd hear all of them, a fact to which HK would frequently attest. One of their conversations went like this:

"So what do we do once we get to Taris?" Caius asked.

"Only one thing we can do: find a hyperdrive."

"What if there isn't one?" Caius responded.

"That's not an option," Atton shot back.

Caius grimaced crookedly, said, "Well, that's a load off of my mind. Okay, so once we find a hyperdrive, we fix the ship, and then what?"

"I have no clue."

Caius grumbled.

"You're in charge, remember?" Atton asked. "I'm only the pilot. I fly where you tell me, it's your job to come up with a plan."

Caius retreated back into his thoughts. He was being tormented by what Kreia had told him before she died. He wanted that old hag to fade into obscurity after death, but she would not leave him be. Even now, her words still confounded him. She had told him that he would follow Revan. That he would join him in his campaign against the "True Sith" threat. Her ambiguity, incredibly annoying in life, was downright maddening as she was no longer there to offer any short of cryptic insight to her enigmatic sayings. He wanted to know what she meant, but he could not. He wanted to punch something, it aggravated him so.

A light screeching noise emanated from the hall behind him, a droid approaching. _T3_, Caius thought. Consumed in his rage against the old woman, he spun around, pivoted on his nearly concrete boot, and kicked, wanting to take out his anger against something that could actually receive it. He jammed his foot out and smashed into a metal object, sending it careening into the navigational computer. Much to his dismay, he had hacked HK as opposed to T3. The large orange droid fell straight onto his face as his support had been yanked from under him. "Exclamation: Master!"

"Ah hell," Caius said, realizing the childishness of his behavior, "I'm sorry, HK."

"Query: Sorry? Master, that was a phenomenal display! And here I was beginning to think you were too soft to own a droid of my caliber."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

"Suggestion: Now all you have to do is channel all that righteous indignation and kick the legs out from our adversaries and you'll be unstoppable!" HK then trotted off gleefully.

"Why did you do that?" Atton asked, his neck craned to look behind him.

Caius had his back turned, slowly rotated and faced Atton. He shrugged, confused, said, "I...I don't know. It's something Kreia said."

"She told you to kick the droid? Maybe I didn't give that hag enough of a chance."

"No," Caius said, frustrated at Atton's attempt at humor. "She told me about Revan."

"Really? What did she say? Did she know where he is? We could use someone like him on our side at this point."

"No," Caius responded, "she merely said that he was in the unknown regions, fighting against the so-called 'True Sith'."

"Ah, that's great. More cryptic bullcrap from the old woman. Why the hell did we even listen to her?"

"But Revan really is out there..." Caius said distantly, ignoring Atton, "and if he is fighting against a new threat...he would need help, wouldn't he?"

"I guess so."

"She told me I was to follow him."

"Oh damn," Atton muttered.

"What, you don't want to?"

"Track someone who went into hiding in the unknown regions? You're kidding me, right? There are faster ways to kill yourself, sure, but none more certain of success."

"That's what I find strange," Caius said, "why would he go out there alone?"

"I don't know," Atton said, "but you can't ask him now."

"No," Caius responded, "but I can ask people who knew him. Remember that Republic Admiral, from Telos? Onasi, I think his name was. Yeah, him. He asked me about Revan. I should go back and talk to him."

"If he asked you about Revan, how the bloody hell would he know where Revan is?" Atton whined.

"It's a start, and he knows other people, surely." Caius sat back down in the co-pilot's chair. "So," he continued, "we go to Telos after this."

"Great," Atton said dryly, "my favorite vacation spot."

* * *

"Look, there's Taris," Atton said, drawing Caius out of his unpleasant sleep in the co-pilot's seat. He opened his eyes and strained out the viewing port of the ship. A distant, gray orb hung in the vast expanse of space, slowly but surely creeping towards them

"How long until we get there?" Caius asked.

"Oh, I'd guess around forty-five minutes to an hour."

"And how much fuel?"

"Uh...forty-five minutes to an hour."

"That's great," Caius muttered, half-sarcastically.

There was an uneasy silence for a few moments, before Caius eventually broke it. He asked, "What have you heard of Taris since the war?"

"Nothing, really," Atton replied. "All I know was that Malak bombed the hell out of it during the Civil War. I heard rumors about the whole planet being destroyed, but I'm sure those are exaggerated. No one could destroy an entire planet, it'd take half the starships in the Republic fleet with more fire-power than-"

"Malak was enough of a brute to try it," Caius interrupted. "But I didn't even know it was attacked until I came back out of my 'exile'."

"I heard something about a rebuilding project, but I don't think anyone wants to fund that kind of thing. Too big."

"Yeah, I don't think I would either."

A barrage of beeping and whistling exploded from behind them, and Caius nearly jumped out of his seat. He turned around to find T3 sitting innocently behind him. He said, "Hell! T3, don't sneak up like that." T3 continued beeping.

"What's he want? Fetch or something?" Atton asked.

"Hmm, that's weird." Caius said under his breath. "He says that he was here when the planet was destroyed. He and Revan. He said that the whole place was completely annihilated."

"That's garbage, if so, then how'd he escape?"

"That's the weird part," Caius answered, "he said that they 'commandeered' the _Ebon Hawk_ and escaped. Apparently this ship really was stolen."

"So you mean that guy on Nar Shaddaa who said he owned it once might have been telling the truth?" Atton asked.

"I guess he could've."

"Oops," Atton said disingenuously.

Several minutes later they entered the atmosphere of Taris. Both Caius and Atton had to suppress exclamations of awe and horror. As they neared the planet's surface, they could see that the destruction was all too real, and complete.

"I guess...we were wrong," Atton murmured.

"Is there even a place to land?"

"I'm picking up one signal, I think there's only one landing area on this whole planet now, unless we try a crash landing."

"No way, we have enough fuel, right?" Caius asked nervously.

"Uh...maybe."

Atton maneuvered the ship over the wasteland of Taris, scouring the horizon for signs of the landing pad. Both men were overwhelmed by the sheer scope of the destruction of the planet. Caius thought to himself about Malak, he had known the man for years before the Civil War was instigated. And even so, he could not even fathom that he had done such a thing. It was impossible to match the actions with the face. It was the same with Revan, he could not imagine either of those men as brutal killers; it just didn't register. He had watched their fall to the dark side, slowly, but he still had a hard time putting the pieces together.

Histhoughts were interrupted by a shrill voice chirping through _Ebon Hawk_'s comm. "Unidentified spacecraft, you do not have clearance to land."

Atton moved the _Hawk_ over the landing pad, Caius had not noticed them approach it. It was truly a modest structure, barely discernible from the wreckage.

"Well, give us clearance because we're landing. We are completely out of fuel, either you grant us permission or we crash on your pad," Atton fired back.

There was hesitation on the other end, but eventually the voice returned, "Permission granted."

"Thank you." Atton lowered the ship gently towards the surface. As they descended, the ship began to jolt and shiver unnaturally. "Uh, that's not normal," Atton said. Just a few yards off of the ground, the ship gave one final heave and then Caius felt his stomach jump. They were in free-fall. But only for a moment, no sooner had Caius felt gravity release him, he was suddenly thrown downwards as the ship smashed onto the landing pad.

"Well," Atton said, "I couldn't have calculated that any better. Hopefully the damage from that little fall is only aesthetic."

"Yeah, it's not as if anyone will notice at this point," Caius responded, "I mean, I can say this ship has been to hell and back and it wouldn't be a lie."

The loading ramp practically fell off as they opened it, slapping the concrete as it fell. Atton strolled down triumphantly, his head even more inflated by his accurate prediction of the fuel situation. Caius limped along behind him, his left foot still antagonizing him. They presented a humorous sight, at least they would've had anyone else seen them. The few dockworkers present were on the other side of the lone building structure. The flat gray pad extended about one hundred yards in diameter, barely enough for one ship. There were a few other flats in the area, though they were somewhat smaller. Walkways led over the rubble from the pads to a modest central building, surely the headquarters of the area.

T3 followed along behind Caius, evading his notice as they left the ship. He eventually heard the gears grinding, and turned around. He said, "Hey, T3, stay behind with the ship and HK. There's nothing to see here."

The droid beeped unsatisfactorily.

"I don't know...repair the ship or something."

An explosion of unfriendly noises came from the droid.

"All right," Caius said, holding his hands out, trying to calm the droid. "You don't have to repair the ship. You could've just said so, there's no need for language like that."

The droid beeped once more and then went back of the loading ramp, creaking all the way.

Caius watched in amusement, but then heard Atton calling him. He said, "Hey, get a load of this guy."

He ambled up next to Atton, looked over his shoulder to see what he was seeing. He was looking behind a couple crates at a blue Twi'lek who had apparently fallen asleep on the job. Atton asked, "What should I do to him?"

"Uh, I don't know. I'm sure they make a lot of progress around here with employees like this, though."

"Here let's go over here," Atton said. They moved a dozen yards up the walkway, and then Atton turned around and held his hand out. The stack of crates slowly began to totter and then fall. The top two crates landed on each side of the sleeping Twi'lek, jerking him out of his slumber.

"Gah!" he exclaimed in a sniveling, nasally voice. "Who did that?"

Atton smirked and then turned around, motioning for Caius to keep going up the ramp. They continued up and then right, into the sliding doors of the building. A short way down the hall sat a receptionist.

"Greetings," she said, "welcome to Taris, these are the headquarters for the Taris Reconstruction Project."

Atton muttered something, but Caius ignored it. He asked, "How's progress?"

"Well," said the receptionist nonchalantly, "it's pretty much non-existent. But don't bring that up, may I help you?"

"Um," Caius hesitated, "well, we need a hyperdrive."

"A hyperdrive? And you come here?" she asked, confused. "Well, I suppose you might find one. But you'll have to ask the administrator. She's not busy right now, so I'm sure you can go on in. Her office is just to the right."

On their way to room Caius thought again of Mira. He said to Atton, "It doesn't look they have the means to take care of her here. They may have an infirmary, but that's it. If we're going to get her medical attention, we're going to need to get off of this planet and take her to Telos." Atton nodded in affirmation.

The two men entered the door into a sparse, white room. Behind a desk sat a small blue Twi'lek, a woman this time. She was staring down at some paperwork, not aware that there were three people in the room now. Atton coughed and the woman's head jerked upwards, somewhat frightened by their presence.

"Sorry about that," Caius said. "Don't pay my friend here any heed."

"Who are you guys?" asked the woman in a voice that sounded naturally cheerful, despite the fact that she clearly was not.

"I'm Caius Lucullus, and this idiot is Atton Rand," he said, gesturing to Atton.

"Pleased to meet you, I guess," she said, "my name is Mission Vao—I'm the administrator around here."

"Your receptionist said that you weren't making progress?" Atton said, half-stating half-asking.

"Very tactful," Caius said sarcastically.

Mission sighed, said, "She would be right. No one cares to undertake a project as massive as rebuilding Taris. All we really do here is try to salvage from the destruction. Our job is made really difficult, though. If it isn't the bureaucracy stone-walling us at every turn, it's the rakgouls running rampant in the wreckage. Not to mention inept employees, you know?"

"Yeah," Caius said, "we saw some loser sleeping out there when we came in."

"Oh, yeah? That was probably my brother, Griff."

"Very tactful," Atton coughed.

Caius shot him a displeased glare, said, "Oh...I didn't mean."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Mission said, "I realize he's lazy, but there's nothing I can really do about it. Now, what exactly brings you two and your banter to this place? You must have a reason for being here, yeah?"

"Um, well," Caius hesitated, not wanting to ask for such an expensive device as a hyperdrive. "We, uh, the thing of it is, our ship was damaged, and we fell out of hyperspace nearby. And now...we can't jump back."

"You need a new hyperdrive?" Mission asked, rather loudly.

"Unless we could get ours repaired somehow," Caius input hopefully.

"Not a chance," Atton said, "I already looked at it. And come on, I'd think that you'd know by now that if I couldn't get it back on line, then it's unfixable."

"Nothing's unfixable," Mission said, somehow taking his statement as something of a challenge. "It just so happens that I've got nothing to do for about a half hour; take me to your ship, I'll see if I can fix it."

"You?" Atton asked incredulously.

"What?" she yelped, "I know how to fix things! You don't grow up a street urchin on Taris without learning how to rig any sort of device to work when the odds are against it." She got up from behind her desk and stomped off in between the two men and out the door. Her voice called around the corner, "Come on!" Caius and Atton glanced at each other, shrugged at the same time, and followed her out the door. They could hear her voice from outside, pulling them like a leash. The slide doors of the complex opened, accommodating them, and they went outside, strolling, or in Caius's case: hobbling, down the walkway. Suddenly Mission's voice stopped, and they came up behind her to find her standing still and staring at the _Ebon Hawk_. "That ship..." she said almost longingly.

"What is it?" Caius asked.

"It's been, what? Five years? Six? Oh, the time," she said cryptically.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Atton demanded.

"Where did you find this ship?" she asked Caius.

"I think it's more accurate to say that it found me..." he answered.

She swallowed, kept speaking, "This was Revan's ship. I was part of his crew. Back during the Jedi Civil War, remember that? I was at the battle of Rakata Prime."

Caius was completely blown away by her words, there was much more to this young woman than met the eye.

"Have you seen him?" she asked.

"No," Caius answered, "but that's something I'd like to rectify."

"I haven't seen or heard from him since after that battle. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to confuse you guys, it's just...the nostalgia, you know? I have a lot of good memories on this ship, some bad ones too...but, I just miss them all terribly, you know?"

Caius thought to himself, said, "I can understand that." He felt the same way about this ship. It had that aura about it, some sort of strange connection to the past and better, happier days. But then all he had to do was look at it to see the present truth.

"If you haven't heard from Revan," she continued, "have you at least heard from any of the others? Bastila, Carth, Jolee, Canderous, anyone?"

"Wasn't Canderous Mandalore?" Atton asked.

"Yeah, Canderous was with us for a while, he never said anything about Revan, though, and as far as I know he's out leading the Mandalorian clans somewhere," Caius answered. "I spoke to an Admiral Onasi, he asked me about Revan, too. It looks like the others in the crew want to know the same things you do."

Mission stood in solemn silence. It looked as though she were in deep thought. Eventually she broke the quiet, said, "I don't think I could go on that ship again, the memories are too strong. It'll be too sad..." she trailed off. "Hmm, we have one hyperdrive. It's leftover from a flightless old ship, it's just been gathering dust in storage. I'm sure it'll work, though. Just take it, please, and don't worry about pay. Just take it on the house, I want to make sure this ship is taken care of the way it deserves." She gazed at it again, noting its damage, said, "Though I don't think it has been."

"We've tried," Caius said, "but destroying gravity has a tendency to mess up spacecraft. But anyway, thank you so much for doing this for us."

"I don't know if I understand what you just said, but you're welcome. I'll think of it as an investment towards finding Revan," she answered. "Hey Griff!" her voice now a shout. The sniveling Twi'lek jumped out from behind the crates, clearly having been sleeping again.

"Yeah, sis?" he asked, somewhat dazed from having been woken up.

"Go get that spare hyperdrive, the one in storage," she ordered. He darted off, eager to avoid any questions about his sleep habits.

"Thank you again," Caius said.

She turned and looked at him and said, "You need fuel, too, right? We have plenty of that for you. Just do one thing, in return. Find Revan, please. We all want to know what happened to him." She grabbed his hand and shook it, and then turned around and left, ascending back up the ramp. Yet another person who wanted to find where Revan was. Caius was feeling more compelled to search for him. Kreia had spoken of it like it was his destiny to go searching for him, somehow help him. And now people he would otherwise have never met were telling him he should do it too. It was as if fate was screaming in his face.

"Are you really going to try and find him?" Atton asked, displeased.

Caius didn't answer. He only watched as Griff and two other dockworkers struggled to carry the hyperdrive to the ship. He said, "Let's go help them out, the sooner we get off of this planet, the better."


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: All right, another week, another update. Thanks again for the reviews, **carlo707**, **What contented men desire**, and **Royal**. Contented men pointed out some logical leaps from my last chapter, which I'm grateful for. I hope to avoid those kinds of things as much as possible, but I have zero technical knowledge of the SW universe, so please bear with me.

Oh, and it should be mentioned. This is the chapter that probably breaks canon the most, just because of one character. I hope you all don't crucify me for it, but I actually like the character-even though most hated him-and I didn't want him to go out that way, so I kept him alive. But enough of that-here goes!

**Chapter Two**

The battered freighter fell out of hyperspace right over the Citadel Station. The mammoth, metallic blanked curled around the wasted Telosian countryside, rotating over it as the Restoration Project continued. It was the third time in the last year Caius and Atton were to visit the seemingly inconsequential planet, and each time they visited it, something momentous occurred. No doubt Lieutenant Grenn would be somewhat shocked to see them again, it was anyone's guess as to whether he'd be upset that they escaped the first time they were here, or grateful that they saved the planet the second time. Either way, they would have to land on the planet. Caius had no way to know if Onasi was still present, but given his relationship to the planet, it was likely; and if he wasn't, they could easily track him down. Surely he would want to speak to them again.

Caius watched out of the view port as the landing dock neared them. Atton was pre-occupied with negotiating a landing, and Caius spent the time mulling over his future, his so-called destiny. Should he really pursue Revan? He was unsure of what exactly the future held for him. He had just finished a wild rampage across the galaxy and inadvertently killed three Jedi Masters because of it. The guilt was beginning to wear at him. Had he not done what Kreia asked, those Jedi would still be alive, but perhaps she would have found someone else to do it. And had he not listened to her, he wouldn't have regained his connection to the Force, and he wouldn't have found and trained his students. But then perhaps they would still be alive. The chaotic events of the past several months were maddening, and each circumstance bore its own "either/or" possibility, which was enough to make a lesser man break down. But cutting his soul off from his body made subsequent decisions much easier. Still, he pondered, should he heed Kreia's advice? Should he jet off to the black void of the nether regions of space and search for the turncoat Jedi? But then what was the alternative? Rot away within the confines of the stagnant Republic? All while doubt consumed him concerning his "destiny"? No, he was becoming more adamant, he would search for Revan. He just needed to find people to point him in the right direction...and he would need others to go with him.

"Finally," Atton gasped, exasperated, "I thought they weren't going to let us land. What is it about this ship that apparently brings out the worst in the dock officials? If they're not refusing us permission to land, they're trying to blast us out of the sky. I just don't get it."

"I wonder if Revan had this much trouble with it," Caius speculated.

"I doubt it, people practically worship the ground that he walked on. I bet the dock workers were lining up for autographs whenever he was around. Some guys have all the luck."

The _Ebon Hawk_ casually slid into the docking bay. The ship hissed as air filled the nooks and crannies that had previously been emptied by the void of space. Slowly, the _Hawk_ descended and planted itself on the ground. For the first time in a long time, the ship had been able to dock in relative peace and tranquility—the sensation was intoxicating.

As Caius, Atton, and the droids exited the ship, they were met with a familiar voice. "Well, if it isn't the Jedi Exile and his compatriots. When I heard the _Ebon Hawk_ was landing, I had to come see for myself." It was Lieutenant Grenn, right on cue. The lieutenant marched out into the bay to meet them. The balding man wore the traditional TSF uniform, dark gray with a little orange on it. "I didn't think I'd see you again so soon after the battle here ended. And don't think I've forgotten about your evasion of house arrest. I've got all the necessary paperwork to bring you to trial back in my office, when I get around to it."

_Is he serious? _Caius thought to himself. He was about to speak in protest before Atton did, saying, "And how long will that take?"

"Oh, I don't know," Grenn said, now cracking a sly smile, "shouldn't take longer than five or six years."

"That's not funny," Caius said, "I thought you were going to arrest us again."

"After what you did for us? Of course not. And that reminds me, I don't think I properly thanked you for your intervention in that battle, we would not have been victorious without you." Grenn eyed the droids behind them, then asked, "Where's the rest of your crew?"

"They...didn't make it," Caius answered solemnly.

"Oh," Grenn's pleasant expression was interrupted with a flinch. He stuttered for a second, said, "You have my deepest condolences." He regained his composure quickly, ever the military man, and said, "I hope you can find a measure of comfort in the fact that they helped save the Republic."

"Well, I can't say we're out of the woods yet," Caius answered ambiguously.

"Excuse me?" Grenn asked.

"Never mind..."

"Well," he said, regaining his composure, "if there's anything I can do for you while you're here, just be sure and let me know. I'll make it my first priority."

Caius immediately jumped on the opportunity, said, "We've got a wounded woman inside the ship. Can you get her medical assistance?"

Grenn's face betrayed mild shock at such a statement, but hurriedly covered it and said, "Yes, of course, why didn't you say so earlier?" He immediately ordered a medical team into the docking bay. Two women and one man in white coats quickly showed up and Atton showed them into the medical room of the _Hawk_. Caius didn't go in with them because of his bad leg. All he saw was Mira's limp body come out on a gurney, her arm hooked up to an IV and the doctors looking very rushed. Atton came out behind them.

He said, "Come on, Caius, let's go to the hospital with them."

Caius nodded, and Grenn came with them too. They were shown to a small medical facility, but the equipment was top-notch, no doubt influenced by the trauma the planet had been through only years prior. Caius and Atton saw them immediately go to work on the girl before the curtains were pulled around her. Then the door was shut and both men found themselves in the waiting room. Grenn was still with them, he said, "She's in good hands. If anything can be done to save her, then they'll do it. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

Caius spoke up. He was a little hesitant to ask for something else, but went ahead for it. "Actually, there is one more thing you can do. Is Admiral Onasi still on the station?"

Grenn gave him a curious look, said, "I believe he is. Why? You seek an audience with him?"

"I would like that, yes."

"Hmm, well, I suppose I'll see what I can do. I can make no guarantees though. He is an admiral now, and he is quite the busy man."

"I think he'll find the time," Caius input, "just tell him that Caius Lucullus has a lead, he'll want to meet with us."

"Will he?" Grenn asked, cocking an eyebrow, "Well, I'll tell him that." He looked them all over again, said, "I'll arrange for a small apartment for you to stay in while you're here. It's the least I can do. Now, if you'll excuse me," he turned on his heels and left the medical facility.

* * *

"I feel like it's been an eternity since I could just sit down in a room and rest," Atton said as they entered their apartment. He threw himself face-first onto one of the beds and just exhaled deeply.

"Statement: Weakling," HK muttered to himself. Apparently Atton didn't hear him because he made no reply. T3 beeped in agreement.

"I could use a fresh set of robes, too," Atton said, "or at least wash the ones I have..."

Caius just sat down on another bed, trying to adjust his cast to make his foot more comfortable. He probably wouldn't have to wear the thing for much longer, but this fact was of little consolation. HK made some sort of sarcastic hand motion, clearly mocking Atton. If he had real eyes, he would be rolling them.

Both men were content to rest for the remainder of their time in the apartment. After a long period of silence, Atton decided to ask about Caius's strategy. He said, "So, what do you plan to do?"

"Interjection: Shut up!" HK shouted, somehow perturbed.

"What the hell?" Atton asked. "What did I do?"

"Statement: I am growing more and more tired of your presence, meatbag."

It looked as though HK was going for his gun before Caius interrupted him, said, "HK, power down."

"Obedience: Yes, master."

Atton's eyes had bulged considerably. The droid plugged itself into a recharge outlet and then turned off. Atton asked nervously, "Why...why did he do that?" Clearly he was afraid for his own life.

"I don't know. Do you know how long he's gone without recharging or powering down?"

"Not sure," Atton answered, "but I couldn't get him to do it while you were knocked out because I'm not the 'master'."

"Holy..." Caius trailed off..."he must've gone for a whole week without powering down. No wonder. It's a miracle he didn't try to kill us...err...you." He thought for a second, then said, "While we're at it, T3, why don't you do the same, all right?" The droid whirred with joy and then joined HK in the dormant state of recharge. Caius returned to the bed and sat down at the foot of it, but as soon as he had hit the mattress, a firm knock rapped at the door. Caius sighed and rose, said to Atton, "Don't hurry and get the door, let the cripple get it." Atton rolled his eyes as Caius approached the door. He pressed a button and slid them open, revealing their visitor. A somewhat short man in full body armor, with a shaved head and piercing blue eyes, glared right at him.

"Greetings from the Exchange," he said.

No sooner had he uttered those words, a small assassin pistol protruded from his previously concealed hand and fired at Caius's gut. The Exile jerked subconsciously out of the way and twisted to the side, calling on his Jedi reflexes to dodge the shot. The blast grazed off the side of his robe. He grabbed the man's wrist and tried to wrench the gun free, but he could not do so. They merely interlocked as the gun waved wildly. The assassin squeezed the trigger again, vainly hoping to hit Caius and wrestle himself free, but the bolts just blasted harmlessly onto the roof of the apartment. Caius infused his grip with the Force, tightening his hold on the man's hand until he could hear the bones cracking. The assassin screamed in agony and the pistol finally fell to the ground. Atton used this opportunity to lunge at him, tackling him into the wall. The man tried to throw him off, but Atton pulled back his clenched fist and managed to land one strong blow to the side of his head. There was a profound thud, and the assassin blinked and then fell to the ground.

Caius was hyperventilating. Atton dragged the man's body down into the middle of the room and began padding him down, looking for any other weapons. He found a rather large knife in his boot and took it away. "Is he dead?" Caius asked.

Atton felt his mangled wrist, said, "No, just unconscious. We should call the authorities."

"Looks like they're here already."

Lieutenant Grenn strolled innocently into the room, apparently unaware of the scuffle. "Good news, gentlemen, I..." he spotted the man on the ground, Atton kneeling next to him with a knife, and instantly went for his holster, said, "What happened here?"

"Oh, I don't know," Atton said sardonically, "the obligatory assassination attempt on our lives, you know, like every other time we're here? Check the security cameras, you'll see what happened." He then stood up and put the knife on the nightstand next to his bed.

Grenn relaxed, said, "Very well." He stepped over to the body, asked, "Is he dead?"

"No, you should probably arrest him," Caius answered.

Grenn barked something into his comm and soon two security officers arrived and cuffed the man. They put him on a stretcher and carried him off to the security station. Grenn asked, "Know why he attacked you?"

"I think it might have to do with killing Goto," Caius answered.

Grenn's jaw dropped, he said, "You killed Goto?"

"My droid did," he answered, and gestured towards the recharging HK.

"Well," Grenn said, "you can expect a lot more of this, then." He paused for a moment, both Caius and Atton frowned, clearly displeased with that fact. "Um," Grenn continued, "I was on my way here to give you some good news. Two things, actually. It seems your companion in the hospital has taken a turn for the better. She's very stable now, but unfortunately they can't wake her up. Now all that you can do is wait and see when she'll come out of it. The doctors said that it's a miracle she's alive, and she probably wouldn't have lasted another hour before you got her here."

"That's great news," Caius said sincerely. "But what if we leave the planet before she wakes up?"

"We'll be sure and contact you if that happens. We understand you won't be able to stay here forever. They advised, however, that you should get here as soon as possible if she does wake up. And in the meantime, TSF will shoulder any medical expenses." Grenn then felt it necessary not to get their hopes up, said, "Be aware that this is not assured. The doctors don't know when she'll wake up, if she does at all. They are fearing a permanent catatonic state."

Atton frowned. As important as this conversation was, he had to change the subject before Caius forgot. He asked, "What was the other news?"

"Oh, right," Grenn answered. "It seems that Admiral Onasi was indeed receptive towards your message. He has arranged a meeting for you. He wants you and Atton to join him tomorrow morning at Handon's Cantina, it's just to the left out of this complex and about 150 yards down the road, you can't miss it. Be there at 9:30."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Caius said.

"Yeah," Atton responded, "and could you beef up security for us? I'd appreciate it if there were no more attempts to kill us."

"You got it," Grenn said. "So long, gentlemen." He again turned on his heel and strode out of the apartment.

"Lock the door," Atton said.

* * *

They both slept uneasily that night, each waking up multiple times, afraid that they heard someone trying to break into the room. That Grenn had stationed two round-the-clock guards outside their door didn't help assuage their fear. It is difficult to sleep while being hunted. Surely the bounty on their heads had inflated to an otherworldly size since Goto's death. At one instance, at about two in the morning, they both awoke simultaneously.

"You asleep?" Atton asked.

"No, you?"

"Nope," he replied. "I can't rest since we had that assassination attempt. Every little noise causes me to jump."

"Me too."

"Speaking of that attempt," Atton said, "did you realize that you actually dodged a bullet? Like, in the literal sense? How did you even know he was going to fire at you?"

Caius paused before answering, said, "I guess I… didn't. I just dodged, for some reason. I can't explain it, it's like I was just pulled out of the way."

"That's incredible," came Atton's answer. "No one would dodge a shot like that… do you know how much skill… or perhaps luck that would take? Even for a Jedi…"

Caius didn't like this talk, he never really liked to think about his abilities, but as Atton was saying it the fact became more obvious: he was strong, much moreso than he had been before his exile. Caius didn't answer Atton, and eventually the pilot shifted the conversation to their upcoming meeting.

"Well, I may as well ask," Atton said. "What do you plan to tell Onasi tomorrow?"

"I'm just going to tell him what Kreia told me. That Revan went into the Unknown Regions to fight against the 'True Sith' Empire, something no one previously knew existed. It's been five years, he's not been heard of since, so something must've gone wrong. We need to track him down and find him."

"Do you think that'll be enough?"

"I don't know," Caius admitted, "but I think he'd be grateful for any news concerning the man."

Atton did not speak for a few moments. Caius could hear him breathing deeply. There was a stifled gulp, and then he said, "Caius...?"

"Yes?"

"If you go into the Unknown Regions...I'm not going to go with you. You'll need to find a new pilot."

He had been afraid of this. Of course it was a lot to ask of someone to fly a spacecraft into previously uncharted territory, but he had hoped that Atton would've warmed up to the idea after all they had been through. Atton continued, "I told you that I'm a deserter at heart, and I am. But I plan on at least telling you why I'm not going. That type of journey...it's suicide. There's no way I'm going to go with you. I've just gotten a hold on my life again, I'm not going to throw it away."

Caius sighed, not with disgust, but with a tone of sadness, he said, "I can't make you go. I'll let you think about it, but if we do this, I'd hope you would change your mind. We'll talk about it more after we talk to Onasi."

"Very well," Atton resigned, but then asked, "Why is it that you want to go so badly?"

"I..." Caius began, "I don't rightly know. I feel as if I have no other choice. I...hmm," he paused. "Do you ever get the feeling that our whole escapade looking for the Masters that exiled me was an exercise in futility? I get the feeling we did more harm than good."

"Perhaps, but it was still something you had to do. And you honestly thought that those Jedi would help, you didn't know Kreia would kill them."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's not my fault. I feel I have to...atone, somehow, for that. I need to help stabilize the galaxy again."

"You did, we did. We stopped the Sith in battle over this very planet, and we killed all three Sith Lords. Is that not enough stability for you?"

"I guess."

"That can't be the only reason you want to go find him."

"Well," Caius answered, "I legitimately believe the Republic is in danger, so we should find him. But I also want to...fulfill this 'destiny' that Kreia was talking about."

Atton gagged, "Don't tell me you believe anything that witch said."

"No, well, what I mean is: there's nothing for me here. I can't live a normal life, I haven't, not since the Force was taken from me. The only thing I can do is continue this search." He stopped for a moment, he was thinking out loud, he had not even considered these thoughts before now. He continued, "I guess it's just an extension of my search for the Masters. I just...I need to find someone who can help me."

"Ah, so this is about yourself?" Atton asked. "There's no shame in that. If there's anyone that can shed light on your condition, it's Revan. Wasn't he there when it happened?"

"Yeah, he was nearby. He could feel the void within me. I haven't seen him since that day. But now that I have this...curse, I may as well use it for good. Somehow, Kreia believed, it would help me if I were to search for him. I can't explain why I believe her...but I do."

"Very well," Atton said, "I can't stop you. I'll make no promises, but I'll consider what you said. However, don't expect me to change my mind."

* * *

Caius woke up sweating, he had vividly relived the last few minutes he spent on Malachor V, had watched Mira get shot again. It was brutal. The clock showed 8:30 and Atton was already awake. Caius took a shower and then donned his clean robes, a luxury he had not had in a long time. Their charcoal gray was now fully visible, no longer mucked up by dirt and grease and blood.

They reactivated the droids and ordered them to guard the apartment, even though no one would attack it while they were gone. Especially considering there was nothing of value in it, but HK needed a purpose, so Caius gave him one.

It was precisely 9:30 when they entered Handon's Cantina. The entire place was empty save for the grizzled Admiral, sitting by himself in a booth. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days. He had dark brown hair, but it was beginning to gray at the temples. He had a mysterious cowlick right over the right side of his forehead. He glanced up and saw both Caius and Atton. He gestured to the empty seats in front of him. Caius limped over, and as soon as they sat down, a waitress approached. Caius asked for coffee while the Admiral waited patiently, not willing to ask about his guest's bum leg. The man's pristine naval uniform was a sight to behold. It was a deep shade of gray with gold buttons lining up the middle, and pearl white cufflinks with one golden stripe. His shoulders each bore a single, silver star: Rear Admiral, Lower Half.

As soon as the waitress left, the Admiral spoke, "Good to see you again, General Lucullus...Atton." He shook both their hands. He had sounded unsure as to how to address them, eventually resigning to use Atton's first name. He said, "Whatever news you have for me, you'll have to wait a moment. We're one short."

"Who else is coming?" Caius asked quizzically.

"Damn," Atton said admiringly, and then he nodded his head in the direction of the door.

Caius shifted his view and looked to see who was coming. A young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, glided smoothly towards them. She wore a hybrid, formfitting Jedi robe that was ornamented with thin, flexible leather armor. She had thick brown hair that was braided in a very complex way, with two small ponytail things resting behind her ears. Her steel gray eyes were, contrary to their intense color, warm, not intimidating. "Sorry, I'm late," she apologized in a strange, lilting accent. She took the seat next to Onasi.

"Gentlemen, this is Jedi Knight Bastila Shan," the Admiral said diplomatically, "Bastila, this is Atton Rand and General Caius Lucullus."

"Well, Caius, I never thought I'd see you again," she said, somewhat coldly.

"Ouch," Atton said.

"Uh...it's nice to see you too, Bastila."

She laughed slightly, "I didn't mean it like that. It's good to see you again, and I do mean that." She smiled and grasped his hand with both of hers and shook it. She conspicuously denied Atton the pleasure, and it visibly irked him.

"I take it you know each other?" Onasi questioned, somewhat rhetorically.

"Yes," Bastila said, "we were both on Dantooine at the Jedi Enclave. He was a padawan while I was an apprentice. You could say we were acquaintances."

"It's good to see you've lightened up a bit since then," Caius said playfully. Bastila frowned.

"Lightened up?" Atton asked. No one answered him, and his attempt to get back at Bastila failed.

Onasi smirked, then said, "All right, down to business. You called me here; I assume you have news about Revan. That's what we talked about last."

"Yes, Admiral, sir" Caius answered. But he was interrupted.

"Please, call me Carth," the officer said.

Caius hesitated, not wanting to call such a high-ranking officer by his first name, but he realized the whole situation was rather odd anyway. "Carth," he began, "I hope not to get your hopes up, because what little I do know is admittedly vague, but I have learned a little since we last spoke."

"That's not...what I wanted to hear," Bastila said, looking down at her folded hands. Atton glared at her, and then shot Caius a look that clearly said, "I told you so."

"Anything is welcome at this point," Carth assured him, "please, speak up."

"Well," Caius continued, "you know that Revan is somewhere out in the Unknown Regions, correct?"

"We thought so," Carth answered, "but we could never confirm it. Are you certain?"

"Yes," Caius answered, "but it's what he's doing there that's of importance. According to the three Sith Lords we just recently...uh, came into contact with, the Unknown Regions harbor some sort of ancient 'Sith Empire' that is a direct threat to the Republic. According to Darth Traya, Revan went to go confront it."

Carth sank into his chair, Bastila didn't move at all. Carth spoke, "A 'Sith Empire'? Forgive me if I don't take everything you say at face value. This is...unheard of. How do you know?"

"The Sith records on Malachor V and the ones here at Atris's academy both speak of it. Revan apparently found out about it right at the end of the Mandalorian Wars. It may have influenced his fall to the dark side." Caius thought for a moment, said, "Can we talk to Atris? She'll confirm it."

Bastila sighed, said, "Master Atris took her own life shortly after the battle over Telos."

Caius was stunned. Another dead Jedi Master. Of all of them, he had despised her the most, and yet...he was somehow...sad. Atton spoke for him, "We're certain. The Sith records on Malachor V pretty much go on endlessly about the 'True Sith' Empire. If Revan's out in the Unknown Regions, then he's undoubtedly involved with them somehow." He leaned back and looked at Caius, offering a slight grin. Caius was impressed, he had thought for sure that bringing Atton was a waste of time. He was glad to see he was wrong.

"He's right," he picked up where Atton left off, "According to Traya, Revan staged his massive invasion as some sort of complex military coup. He wanted to assume command of the nation and strengthen it in the face of the encroaching Sith threat."

"But that doesn't make any sense," said Bastila. "Why attack something to protect it?"

"No one said he was right to do it," Caius answered. "He fell to the dark side, and he was clearly influenced by his findings at Malachor V. He was probably not in his right mind. It seems the Jedi's attempt to reprogram him just stripped away that Revan and restored the pre-fall Revan. And now he's gone off to continue the same goal he had at the start."

"That's ridiculous," Carth said. "This whole story could just be complete fabrication. And besides, our only sources are the Sith, we can't trust them!"

Bastila just sat still. Carth and Atton exchanged arguments for a few minutes before she finally spoke up, said, "I believe them, Carth."

"You...what?" he asked incredulously.

"They're right. I can sense it, they are not misled." She looked up at Caius, and he could see her eyes were suddenly betraying a profound sense of sorrow, sadness. She said out loud, though really only for herself to hear, "I wonder...why didn't he tell me?"

"Yeah," Carth said, oblivious to her pining, "He should've told us. But," he paused, "if you believe them. Maybe their claim holds some weight. What do you plan to do?"

Still Bastila was gazing off in some direction. Caius could feel her eyes burning through him, she was clearly lost in thought. "Huh, what?" she hiccupped, "Oh," she regained her composure. "I think we should take this before the Jedi on Coruscant."

"There are Jedi on Coruscant?" Caius asked.

"Yes," she answered. "After the battle here, when you killed Darth Nihilus, we were able to come out of hiding. All of the remaining Jedi in the galaxy have made their way back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant."

"And how many is that?" asked Atton.

She looked as though she didn't want to say, but resigned to telling him, "Twenty-two."

"That is...not many," Atton said callously.

"You don't say?" Bastila shot back.

"Whoa, cool it, princess," he retorted.

Bastila opened her mouth to return fire, but caught herself. She closed her eyes and then bit her lower lip. Caius could feel her reciting the first line of the code. She crossed her arms and opened her eyes again. "Nevertheless, we should speak to them about it."

"Are there any masters left?" Caius asked.

"One, Master Vrook."

"Oh, great, he'll be glad to see me," Caius said sarcastically. "He'll probably think I tried to kill the other masters on purpose. I didn't know Kreia was going to murder them."

Bastila raised an eyebrow. "He may," she said, "I'll talk to him about it. It's a good thing he didn't go meet you on Dantooine, or he'd surely be dead too. Even he knows that."

Caius just nodded. Bastila then felt compelled to end the meeting, said, "It's settled then, we're going to Coruscant. Carth, should we take the _Ebon Hawk_, or would you prefer the _Sojourn_?"

"I'm not going to redirect that whole ship's course just to get me to Coruscant, that's a waste of resources. We'll ride with them on the _Hawk_..." he paused, "it'll be nice to see her again," he said to himself.

Atton was not pleased, asked, "Who said you could ride with us?"

Carth scowled at him, "The Republic Navy."

Atton backed down, "I see. All right then, when should we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Bastila said. She again took Caius's hand in hers and shook it. She, once again, ignored Atton. His eye noticeably twitched, he simply stared at her, not noticing that Carth's hand was extended to him. Caius, hoping to lessen the already awkward situation, took Carth's hand and shook it. Carth shrugged, and he and Bastila left the Cantina. Atton and Caius waited for a moment before decided to head out as well.

On their way out, Caius suddenly remembered, asked aloud, "What happened to my coffee?"

* * *

Back at the apartment, Atton was going on about Bastila for some time. Caius wasn't sure if he hated her or was completely smitten by her. He was pacing back and forth about the room. He exclaimed, "What'd I do to her? Why did she treat me like that? She's so cold," he paused, then couldn't resist the pun, "for someone so hot."

"That was awful," Caius grimaced, "and really, is that all you think about?" He was still trying to adjust the boot on his foot, but could not get it to feel right.

"You can't deny it," he said, "she's a looker. Why do you think she wears that skin-tight robe? She's showing off, my friend. Why does she have to be so arrogant?"

There were a lot things Caius could say at this moment, all of them too beautifully perfect; but he couldn't choose just one and ended up saying nothing, squandering a great opportunity.

"I guess I'm arrogant too," Atton said for him, "maybe we could connect over that. I should go talk to her." Caius sighed, Atton continued, "I'm kidding, jeeze, lighten up. You're almost as stiff as she is."

"How long are you going to keep this up?" he asked.

"That's what she said," Atton riposted.

Caius smacked his hand against his forehead. "I'm on fire, baby!" Atton continued.

"That's what she said," Caius answered.

"What? That didn't even make sense!" Atton replied, baffled. "Man, sometimes I pity you Jedi. There's some sort of innocence in all of you. In some ways you're like...little kids." Caius rolled his eyes. Atton kept going, "Well, I'm going to go to the bar and play some pazaak. Maybe I'll find a girl there that will appreciate me, unlike that Bastila wench."

"Plea: Shut up!" HK put in thoughtfully.

"All right," Atton backed off, "I'll go." He walked out the door.

"Begging: May I please kill the meatbag, master?"

"Maybe later, HK," Caius answered. T3 agreed.

* * *

Although he had most of the day free, Caius did not do much with the time. He wanted only for it to burn away so he could shove off of Telos and get back to Coruscant. He was incredibly anxious now that he learned that Vrook was still alive. He had talked to the man on Dantooine, if one could consider it that. Vrook scolded him for everything he'd ever done since he was a child, but Caius was eventually able to talk him into reforming the Jedi Council if he could find the other missing masters. He did, but Vrook never showed. He didn't know why, but the man was absent. It turned out to be for his benefit; however, as the old woman killed the masters that did show up. Caius was certain Vrook would not appreciate seeing him again. He hoped that Bastila would talk some sense into the old man before they showed up… or at least extract a promise that he wouldn't try to kill Caius the minute he saw him. These stressors were not conducive to relaxation, and Caius wandered around the apartment pacing while Atton stayed out the whole day and well into the night.

HK eventually interrupted his concentration, said, "Statement: Master, your walking is highly precise. You have placed each foot in the same place for the past ten minutes, I had thought only a droid could be so accurate."

"Thanks, HK," he said, "I think."

"Query: Master, is something bothering you?"

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact there is. But since when did you become sympathetic?"

"Answer: I'm only sympathetic to your troubles as long as it means I get to kill a meatbag to make you feel better."

Caius stopped walking, said, "I can't guarantee that." HK didn't answer. "But I am bothered by this whole situation. Do you think it's foolish to go looking for Revan?"

"Answer: By my calculations, chances of survival in such an event are 4.3 percent. Give or take a decimal." His red "eyes" glistened in the light. "Query: Does this number satisfy meatbag notions of foolishness?"

Caius frowned, "Those aren't good odds."

"Statement: No, master. I trust my calculations are helping in your decision. Query: May I be permitted to kill something now?"

The Exile was still torn over the search for Revan. He had tacitly committed to undertaking such a quest when he didn't defy Bastila's plan to search for him. At least, at this point, he had recognized that there was indeed a greater good behind the mission. The Sith would have to be stopped, but the potential danger concerned him. He wondered why Bastila and Carth, and even Mission, wanted to find the man so badly. He needed to take a walk. "HK," he said, "come with me. If anyone tries to kill me again, you can shoot."

"Exclamation: Joy!"

He wandered around the Citadel Station with HK in tow for over an hour, losing himself in thought. The more he considered the situation, however, the more he resigned to going on the chase. He did not have another choice. The only alternative, as Atton had suggested, was nothing. He was getting ahead of himself, however. In the back of his mind, he knew that this mission would become a reality, but now there were still the obstacles of the present. Who would be joining him? When would they leave? How would they even begin the search? All he knew for sure is what Kreia told him, he would join Revan in the Unknown Regions.

He returned to the apartment that night, HK was complaining that he hadn't been able to kill anyone, and Atton still had not returned. Caius simply sat on his bed for a while, thinking. His eyes wandered around the room subconsciously, and he once again noticed the cast on his foot. Without so much as a second thought, he reached down and yanked off the tightly wound straps on it. He ripped open the fabric on the inside and let the boot fall to the ground. His foot was sweaty and discolored, but he no longer felt any pain. He didn't want to embarrass himself with it anymore. He questioned why he didn't take it off before he went walking, but it didn't matter. No, he wouldn't worry about it. He took a shower, mostly with the intent to clean his cast-less leg, and then went to bed.

* * *

The next morning, Caius awoke to find Atton sprawled out on the ground next to his bed. He was still wearing his robes and his hair was all out of whack. Caius couldn't resist the urge to kick the man, so he didn't. It wasn't a hard kick, merely enough to wake him. "Hey, wake up. We've got to get going." Atton moaned. "Did you find a girl who appreciated you?"

He still wasn't exactly coherent, "I don't…remember…" Caius opened the blinds in the apartment and let the light in. Atton grimaced and covered his eyes, he said, "Let me sleep."

"Not a chance. You really want to keep a Jedi and an admiral waiting? Go take a shower, you smell like alcohol."

Following Atton's hurried attempt to make himself presentable, the two semi-Jedi departed the apartment with the two droids in tow. They walked briskly towards the docking bay to find that neither Carth nor Bastila had arrived yet. They passed the security guards and entered the area, now they had to wait.

* * *

Despite Carth's military background, he was still prone to emotional outbursts, at least when something irritated him enough to explode. This was one such instance. "_What the hell did you do to this ship?_" he exclaimed. The grim naval officer had only just arrived at the docking bay, and he wasted no time in voicing his dissatisfaction. He covered his impressive frown with his hand and stroked his chin, rubbing the whiskers that were quickly turning gray—this present situation not helping them retain their color. "You beat the hell out of it!" he continued, irate. He threw his hands down and turned away from the monstrosity, looked at Bastila, said, "Can you believe this? That ship was the pride of the Republic, now _look _at it!" Bastila did not speak, Carth continued, now pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. He continued, "The most despicable smuggler in the galaxy would be embarrassed to fly that thing." He spun on his heels again, his polished black shoes wearing out their shine. "Let me just assess the surface damage," he began to list the superficial things wrong with the ship: "The color's faded; the loading ramp's crumpled like an aluminum can; the hull looks like it's been struck with an asteroid, or seven; the bottom turret appears to be falling off; and…"

Atton then confronted him, said somewhat sloppily, "Hey, Admiral…sir, we've been to hell and back, we're lucky the ship looks this…good."

Carth eyed the man's bloodshot eyes and frazzled demeanor, said, "Oh, and the pilot's hung over." He rolled his eyes and turned from the ship again, just in time to visualize Caius returning from the dock officer's desk. He said, "I hope you can explain this better than this imbecile you call a pilot. If this were still my ship, I'd have a respectable crew…and a better paint job."

Caius was not altogether pleased with Carth's comments, so he tried to frame his response within the confines of a respectable answer, "After we killed all three Sith Lords, the cataclysmic black hole at Malachor V, unfortunately, caused the paint to fade a little."

Carth just shook his head and turned away, but Caius could read his body language: the man got it.

"I'm sorry," Bastila said, her gray eyes showing sincerity, "for his behavior. It's just that we have a special… attachment to this ship. And you must remember he's a navy man, seeing such a special ship in this condition is hard for him. I know it's not your fault."

"Well, thanks, I'm glad you're not mad at me too," Caius answered. Bastila nodded and approached Carth. She put her hand on his shoulder and said a few words to him that Caius couldn't hear, but he knew what she was saying.

Carth straightened up, looked the ship over again, said, "When we get to Coruscant, this ship is undergoing a complete makeover." He then began strolling towards the loading ramp, his purposely-hunched frame ascending the slope into the freighter.

The rest of them followed suit, Bastila, Atton, and Caius all going inside the ship. They found Carth frozen stiff in what was once the swoop hangar of the ship. Bastila strolled up next to him, looked at his obscure expression, and noticed his eye twitch. "Carth…?" she half-stated, half asked. He didn't reply, and when she turned to gaze in the direction he stared, she jumped slightly and gave a feminine gasp. They both stared at their new visitor.

"Greeting: It has been a long time, Jedi Bastila and Admiral Onasi. I trust you have had a hard time coping without the master?" The orange assassin droid's red photoreceptors gleamed in the dim light of the ship as he addressed them. Bastila and Carth didn't move.

"I don't believe it," Carth said. "This is proof that this droid is, in fact, invincible."

Caius input, "He was scattered all over the place, but I repaired him."

"Why did you do that?" Carth asked.

"I didn't know," he answered simply.

"Statement: It appears to be a reunion. Query: Where are the rest of the meatbags?"

Bastila seemed to agree with this sentiment, but ignored HK and asked Caius, "Yes, have you heard from any of the others who were on this ship before you?"

"We just met a Twi'lek girl who said she was part of Revan's crew. Her name was Mission, she's an administrator in charge of 'restoring' Taris now," he answered.

"That's great," put in Carth, "what about Zaalbar? Are they still inseparable?"

Bastila shook her head, "No, I'm sure that was a rather tearful departure. Zaalbar is chieftain of his tribe on Kashyyyk now. Remember? Freyyr died a couple years back. Now he's in charge, and I think he's doing quite well."

Carth smirked, obviously remembering the so-called "old days", said, "I'm glad to hear it." He turned and left the garage, making his way to the cockpit. Caius followed him, afraid that a conflict was inevitable. Sure enough, Carth entered to find Atton sitting in the pilot's seat, fiddling around with the controls. The Admiral, contrary to his earlier behavior, did not want to antagonize, so said bluntly, "I think you're in my… I think I should fly."

Atton shot him an unfriendly glare, and Caius jumped in to prevent an argument, said, "Atton, you don't really think you're in any condition to fly this ship, do you? Besides, you could use a break."

Atton just shrugged and sighed; he got up and then slumped down in the co-pilot's chair, crossing his arms in protest. Carth ran his hand over the back of the pilot's seat, and then slowly sat down in it. Caius noticed how relieved the Admiral seemed to feel now that he was back in that chair, as if he felt at home in it. He sat still for a moment, soaking in the feeling, and then got to work on preparing for lift-off. Bastila strolled in from behind and stood next to Caius. He felt a little uncomfortable; she was standing too close. Atton's comments were flittering about his mind, and he couldn't help but notice how well her tight clothes… accentuated her figure. He scooted slightly away, and Bastila, oblivious, asked, "How long can we expect this flight to be?"

"I'm not sure," responded Carth, "shouldn't be longer than a few hours. Ah, hold on. Perhaps five. Not terrible. And considering how fast this ship was…" he hesitated, "_is_…it might not take that long."

There was a small, still silence. Bastila left the cockpit. Caius shifted so as to be equidistant from Carth and Atton, then muttered to himself, "Coruscant…I've not been there since…my trial."

"I've never been there period," said Atton.

"Well, not a lot's changed," Carth replied, "but it is good to see that the High Council is active again after five years of silence. Those Jedi sure have an impact, even if you don't see them, you just feel safer when they're there. Crime in the city has dropped significantly since Vrook took over again, even though there are so few of them now. Criminals think it's too easy to get caught or something."

"I think you glorify them too much," Atton felt the need to say.

Carth ignored him, said, "The numbers are there, so there's nothing to agree or disagree with." He was silent again for a while. After an indeterminate length of time, he said, "All right, we're ready. Let's get going."

Caius buckled himself into a spare seat to prevent falling down during their ascent. He wondered where Bastila was, she could get thrown into the hull if she was walking around, but there was nothing he could do about it. The haggard ship rose shakily, practically wheezing as it lifted off of the ground. It glided backwards and then rotated on its axis, leaving the docking bay behind. Carth didn't want to say it, but he was inwardly glad that the ship started—he wasn't sure they could coax another launch out of it. He maneuvered the freighter safely away from the planet and then entered the coordinates for the hyperspace jump. Caius merely waited in silent apprehension for the jump. He could faintly hear Atton say something, and then felt the jump. Gravity shifted; there was a moment of true weightlessness, and lastly a loud crack. Then all returned to normalcy.

Caius stood from his seat, but did not say anything to the two men controlling the ship. He was curious to see what Bastila was doing. He strolled through the hallways of the ship for a minute before he found her in the cargo hold, kneeling down in front of T3, her hands on his tabletop head. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She jumped a little, said, "Oh, I didn't know you were there." Caius strolled in. She continued, "I programmed this droid to come find me if Revan disappeared. He found you instead, which he was supposed to do if his first goal didn't work out. I am curious, though," she said, put her finger over her mouth, "there should be some sort of record in his memory files about the last place he saw Revan."

"Oh," Caius answered, "I think he was last at Malachor V. He was probably studying up on the Sith there."

The casual tone of his answer surprised Bastila. "How do you know that?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Kreia told me," Caius said, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess she might have been lying."

Bastila tinkered with the droid for a moment, and then seemed satisfied with Caius's supposition. She said, "You would be right. Those are the last known coordinates." She frowned, "But where do we go from there?"

"I don't know."

She patted T3 on the head, eliciting a gleeful beep form the droid, and then stood up. "I'll have to discuss this with the remaining Jedi." She brushed past Caius, lightly bumping him as she tried to squeeze past him and out the door. She slipped past him, but he felt he had to say something, so spouted off the first thing that popped into his head. Luckily enough, it was a legitimate question.

"What about the voice-locked navigational computer?" he asked.

"The what?" Bastila halted her exit from the hold and turned to face him, her gray eyes bearing down on his brown ones.

"The navicomputer—it's been voice-locked," he answered. "We could never access it. If we could figure out someway to bypass the code, we could learn where the ship actually was when Revan left, not just where T3 thought he last saw him."

Bastila mused, a ray of hope glistened ever so slightly in her steel eyes; she said, "That might work…I'm sure there'd be some sort of hacker on Coruscant that could do the trick." Then she turned again and made her exit.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, I know-everyone hates Vrook. But come on, he's the only Jedi on the Council who isn't a total idiot! He needs to survive!_


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Okay, next update. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, your criticisms and advice mean a lot. The reviews are what make the story move forward. So, really, thank you very much for taking the time to send your thoughts instead of just closing the window when you're done reading. Now-let's us resume!

**Chapter Three **

The small crew spent most of the flight in silence. Atton and Carth did not speak to each other for fear of instigating argument, and both worked quietly at the controls of the ship. Bastila spent the time by herself in the port crew quarters. And Caius merely wandered around the passageways, pretending like he had something to do whenever someone saw him, but most of the time he could not focus his thoughts on one thing. The droids had powered down to avoid any complications reminiscent the ones that arisen on Telos. Given these circumstances, everyone was ecstatic to finally land on Coruscant. Even the droids seemed to be excited, or as excited as their inflexible faces could possibly be. Carth had a brief discussion with one of the port authorities, but eventually was able to use his influence to authorize a complete overhaul of the _Ebon Hawk_. Everything would be repaired and made better than previous. He wanted her "faster, stronger, and more agile." Atton was glad, but he could not really explain to himself why, exactly, he was. The group then departed for the Jedi Temple.

As they navigated the bustling, overcrowded streets of the planet, Caius was overcome by the sheer mass of humanity. It was an entangled mess. He could feel all of their souls, all of their connections and bonds. His strange, detached affliction was connecting him to the planet; it was as if he could feel it, feel it through the billions of people that inhabited the metropolis. It was spiritually suffocating. He did not want to voice his discomfort, and hoped that the serenity of the Temple would help alleviate the crush of life. Only Bastila seemed to notice his problem, but she only offered a concerned, sympathetic gaze, nothing more. Caius wondered if she understood what was afflicting him. He hoped that she did, but now, he simply focused on trying to shut off the storm around him. As they rounded a corner of another busy street, his salvation came into view.

Atton commented on it first, said, "Wow, for such a humble Order, the Jedi aren't much for subtlety." The entire group stared up in awe at the massive monument to the Order of the Jedi. The temple was a great, beige rotunda with spires protruding out of the ceiling at an equal distance from each other, ornamenting the complex. It sat in isolation, as if the other structures of the planet were afraid to come near it. The whole image gave off the feel of some sort of quasi-religion.

The group continued on towards the entrance to the Temple. It occurred to Caius how profoundly empty it would seem once inside. If there were only twenty or so Jedi left in the galaxy, and even if they were all here, it would be a mere shell. It forced him to realize how disturbing it would've been, only just months ago, when there was no one inside it. With all the Jedi presumed dead, the temple just sat in isolation, a testament to what once was. Even though the Civil War was long over, the Order had vanished without the capital of the Republic even getting touched. It was disconcerting in the least. And it must have seemed outright dystopian to the citizens of Coruscant. The mutual existence of the Jedi and Republic had been threatened, and no one knew where it came from. At least now there were signs of life and rejuvenation. He had a hard time reconciling his actions with these results. Was it really as a result of what he had done that made this a possibility? He didn't feel like he deserved any sort of honor for doing what he did, but when considering all the facts, he had to realize that he did, in fact, save the Jedi Order. Almost single-handedly. _Don't get cocky_, his conscious backhanded him. He shook his head and they continued up the ramp and towards the main entrance of the complex.

Carth was enamored by the sight. He had never been this close to the Temple, but he knew that his son had. Dustil Onasi had, shortly before Revan's departure, joined the Jedi Order. His training on Korriban had allowed him to learn to manipulate the Force despite his age. After Revan redirected him from the Sith, Dustil had put his talents to use for the forces of light. Carth had barely seen him since then, and he hoped that his son would be at the Temple. He had no way of knowing for sure, considering family ties were discouraged traditionally and the only surviving master was an arch-conservative, he did not see his son much. All he knew was that he had survived the Jedi Purge. This was not due to his skill as a Jedi, but to his ability to masquerade as a civilian. Since he spent years as a "normal" person, Dustil was able to project the image during the purge. No one ever suspected him as being anyone out of the ordinary, let alone a Jedi. Now that Caius had removed the threat, he was able to reintegrate himself into the Jedi Order.

Atton, meanwhile, was apprehensive. He did not want to go into the Temple for fear of being mistaken as a Jedi, or forced into the Order. Sure, he could now use the Force, at least within the limits of what Caius had taught him, and he loved that. Who wouldn't want to manipulate objects or influence people's thoughts? But there was nothing that interested him in the Order. Quite the contrary, he loathed it. He thought of them as hypocritical demi-gods who patted themselves on the back for whatever good deeds they did. He did not want to be forced into their stodgy way of life. Years of experience as a smuggler and as a "real" person taught him that life was too much fun to be sacrificed for such ridiculous ideals. If anything, the Sith were more compatible with him in philosophy, but he knew that they would not appeal to him. He had been a part of their society before—yet another thing he was afraid to confront the Jedi about. Perhaps they would raid his mind and find out all of the horrible things he did during the war, then they would kill him. The whole prospect made him nervous, and he wanted to avoid it if at all possible; but it seemed impossible.

Lastly, Bastila was consumed in her desire to convince the Jedi that searching for Revan was necessary. She was terrified, however, that they would discover that her real reasons for finding him were more personal. She hoped she could guide their thinking with lofty rhetoric concerning the Republic's well being. In truth, she was concerned only with finding the man, whether or not the true Sith really existed were of no consequence. She knew that she should care about it, but she didn't. However, she had to be persuasive without giving away that she fell in love with the man or else she could be exiled from the Order. No one knew of her secret save for Revan himself. She had expertly bottled it up inside of her, and the two had managed to keep their mutual affection secret during their time together. Now that he was gone, she merely stuffed it down inside of her and tried to function normally, but it was getting more and more difficult. She grew frustrated, and even tried to forget about him, but she couldn't. Now was a crucial time, and although she knew her fear was unfounded, she was still subconsciously paranoid that Vrook would find out about her love and punish her for it. Without the support from the Jedi, they'd never find Revan, so her ability to persuade was critical.

As all of them were lost in their thoughts—and the droids ran diagnostics—they reached the entrance of the Temple. The doors accommodated them, and a lone Jedi greeted them. The man was a Twi'lek, and rather forgettable; however, as soon as he recognized Bastila, he allowed them inside. It took some persuasion, but he eventually complied and allowed the non-Jedi inside as well. The group ascended a myriad of stairwells and elevators until they had arrived at the top floor of the complex. One final stairwell remained in front of them, leading to the room that the High Council had occupied while they had lived. Before they ascended the steps, Bastila spoke, said, "We should leave the droids here. Carth, Caius, you'll need to join me if we're to convince Vrook of our plans."

"What the hell?" Atton demanded, his tan face reddening with anger, "you're leaving me here with these damn droids?" He crossed his arms. "Am I not important? Carth and Caius aren't Jedi, why do they get to go in? Or are you just singling me out again?"

"Please, calm down," she responded, "someone has to watch the droids, and Vrook will be angry if I bring in too many people."

Atton knew full well that the droids didn't need to be watched—especially in an almost completely vacant temple—but he didn't feel like arguing, he simply didn't care. "Whatever," he said.

"All right. Caius, Carth, let's go in," she said, somewhat oblivious to Atton's fuming.

"Bitch," muttered Atton as the three ascended the stairs. Bastila stopped and turned her head slightly, but did not turn around. She sighed, her shoulders lowering, but she merely shook her head and resumed leading the group inside. Atton didn't even know why he was as upset as he was. The last thing he wanted to do was go talk to a Jedi Master, but the way Bastila kept isolating him from group initiatives aggravated him as a matter of principle. He couldn't wait to get out, leave them behind. Even if he did owe Caius his life, he just didn't view it as worth the effort anymore.

As Caius, Carth, and Bastila entered the High Council chamber, they found two men in the midst of a heated argument. One was the esteemed Master Vrook. The old master practically exuded cynicism. His countenance was haggard and wrinkled, and his gray hair had receded far, revealing the dome of his head. His face seemed to be contorted into a permanent frown. He was arguing with a younger man, though certainly not a young man. The second wore all black robes, seemingly Sith in allegiance, but he was surely a Jedi. He had somewhat long brown hair that was slicked back behind his ears, light reflecting off of it in a polished sense. The man's dark features contrasted with his fiery green eyes and light skin. None of the newcomers could discern what the two men were arguing about, but their discussion ended rather quickly. The younger man threw his hands up into the air and then turned to leave. Vrook was still talking, but the younger man seemed not to care. "And what then, Nantaris?" Vrook called after him. But he merely walked away, past Bastila and her company.

He nodded a greeting to them, said in a strange accent, "Gentlemen, my lady, if you'll excuse me." And then he disappeared out the door, out of the Council Chamber.

Vrook sneered in contempt. This was definitely not the way Caius had hoped to find him. Though the man was never personable, he could sometimes be less inclined to cynicism. That hope, however, was shot. Bastila approached the brooding master, said, "Master Vrook, if I may have a moment of your time…"

He cut her off, "Of course, of course, I don't have anything to do now except argue with all the young Jedi around here trying to start some sort of revolution. It's hard being the only sensible person around here."

Bastila was a little confused but continued, "Uh, of course, master. I bring you news concerning the Sith."

"Hmm?" he grunted, "and what news is this? I've already heard of Telos, and that infernal Darth Traya. She killed—" he stopped. His eyes had focused on Caius, he now noticed him. The Exile could see fire raging behind the old man's brown irises; no, the man was not happy to see him. "You," he said angrily, "knew, didn't you? You led that old witch to them just hoping that she'd kill those Jedi. At what cost would you pursue revenge? You would bring destruction upon the entire galaxy, fool."

Caius was taken aback, unfortunately Bastila hadn't any time to talk to Vrook first. He merely said, "I didn't know…"

"Didn't you know you had one of the Sith Lords with you? That you led her right to her prey? Your ignorance knows no bounds, it seems."

Bastila tried to interject, stating the Exile's achievements in a strange form of appeasement, "Caius is responsible for the Republic victory at Telos, and he personally slew all three Sith Lords during and after the battle." She hoped this would be enough to win favor, or at least stop Vrook from tearing Caius a new one.

Vrook just frowned, said, "Three Jedi for three Sith, I see you've achieved balance. I guess that's what I should've come to expect from you." He grunted again, disgust still apparent. Carth did not feel it was his place to speak, so he remained mute. Vrook continued, "In respect to your service for the Republic, I'll not pursue this discussion any further." He turned to Bastila, said, "Now, what was it you said was so important?"

Bastila hesitated, it was clear she was nervous. Caius found the notion rather strange. She generally presented an aura of cold stability, seeing her in this way was quite a shock. She spoke up, her words constricted by formality, saying, "We've learned, in the past several days, some information about a new threat to the Republic and the Jedi. It seems," her voice was now gaining some strength, "that the Mandalorians were in effect pressured into attacking the Republic those years ago, by a shadowy empire in the Unknown Regions. These… True Sith, as they are called, also played a large role in Revan's downfall, and their influence was instrumental in his war against the Republic. We believe that these Sith are still out there, and their influence will eventually manifest a new war against the Republic, possibly one against them directly."

"Hmm," Vrook thought, though it seemed disingenuous, "I don't think I have any reason to believe you. We know why the Mandalorians attacked, and we know why Revan fell. I trust that you haven't come all this way with some sort of wild conspiracy theory?" He paused and observed Bastila's face, she had reddened and a tinge of embarrassment crept across her young visage. "That's it?" Vrook asked in disbelief. "Do you have any proof of this?" He was getting agitated again. "You can't just come strolling in here and throw some sort of over-the-top hypothesis such as this at me without so much as a source to back it up. How am I supposed to stabilize and rebuild the Order when such absurd things insist on rearing their ugly heads?" he growled.

"We have the information taken from the Sith archives on Telos and Malachor V," she said, hoping that Vrook would not call her bluff as all those documents had been destroyed or lost. "And we have the information locked away in the _Ebon Hawk_'s navicomputer and Revan's T3 unit."

"Ah, Revan," said Vrook, "I suppose you're going to tie him into this, right? The Prodigal Knight," the man said bitterly, "The savior of the Republic. If only the people could remember that he had only stopped what he started. Without him, there would be none of this conflict, and the Order would still be intact." Bastila worried that Vrook was going to somehow perceive her connection to Revan, but to her relief, the man did not. He merely continued pontificating. "What of the man?" he asked eventually.

Bastila swallowed, unsure if she should really pursue the conversation; but she knew, deep down, she had to do it. At least for herself. "Revan journeyed to the unknown regions to confront this threat. Finding him is integral to learning how to defeat them." She sounded unsure now, as if she didn't believe what she was saying. It was a hard thing to ask, and she just now was coming to the realization that she probably didn't believe it. She maybe just hoped it was true, she wanted a reason. She wanted something she could understand, to know why Revan bolted off and never came back. She looked at Caius. He certainly believed it, and that put her mind at ease. After all, he was the only one that had seen all the evidence. And Carth would do anything to save the Republic, even if the threat was imaginary. She, in spite of their faith in her, felt profoundly stupid for bringing this to Vrook. It was absurd. There was no concrete support aside from hearsay evidence, and she knew that he would not support it. She should've just gone on her own authority, just her own wisdom. She and Caius could find him. Maybe Carth and Atton would come. But no, she caught herself; they would need Jedi support and advice. And with the support of the Jedi would come the support of the Republic. She strengthened her resolve and spoke again, "Before we do anything, we need to find Revan. What he knows would dramatically affect the Order and Republic as a whole." Her words sounded better than they had in her head, perhaps she could salvage the situation.

Vrook did not give any ground, said harshly, "If he truly went into the unknown regions, and it's been five years, then he failed. He's probably dead. No one who wants to commit suicide in that void is worth following." He hardened his visage, continued, "Now, I know you want the support of the Jedi—or what few of us remain—to go looking for him, but we cannot commit to that kind of operation. Even if it was worth wasting our time and energy, which it is not." Bastila sighed, but it was so subtle that no one noticed. Carth felt stupefied by the whole conversation, he wanted to speak, but didn't know where to begin. Caius knew if he said anything it would complicate the issue even more. Vrook continued, "Leave your_ savior_, if he doesn't come back of his own volition, then there's no way to find him. It matters not what sort of delusions you fill your heads with."

Their failure was total. Vrook turned away and moved towards the great glass windows that overlooked the expanse of the city. He did not say another word. Bastila looked at Caius, and he could perceive a wide array of emotions boiling within her. She was angry, but also embarrassed. She seemed…defeated. Carth was confused, and Caius figured his own face betrayed the same feeling. Bastila stared at the ground as she motioned for the other two men to follow her back outside.

"That didn't go very well," Carth said, stating the obvious. Bastila didn't respond, she was still weighing the options in her own mind. Perhaps they would simply go without any support. Was that possible? Could they do it themselves? Maybe the others wouldn't even want to. Carth had his fleet to attend to, and who knows where Atton's loyalties lie. Caius would certainly go, but the two of them would be powerless to undergo such an adventure by themselves. It seemed hopeless. As Bastila buried herself within her thoughts, she failed to notice that the younger man who had been arguing with Vrook was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. Atton was standing next to him.

"I apologize for that rude introduction," the man said. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Valiens Nantaris. I'm Vrook's second here, at least in terms of rank." His curious accent flushed his words with a sort of songlike cadence, as though one could feel his speech flittering about the air. "Jedi Bastila, we've not met, but I've heard a great deal about you," he said to her, jerking her out of her daydream. He then turned to Caius and Carth, said, "Lads, I've been speaking to your pilot here, and he's informed me of your quandary. I also did a bit of eavesdropping on your conversation with the old man, so let me relate your situation to you as I see it."

"That's a strange greeting…" Caius muttered.

"It is, but this is a strange situation. So forgive the connection or dismiss it as fate, whatever you wish." He cleared his throat, said, "Now, your pilot has done his best to fill me in on the details, here's what I've gathered: Revan's jetted off to the Unknown Regions to confront the Sith and you all want to go find him. But Vrook is refusing to lend you any support. Correct?"

"That just about hits the nail on the head," Bastila said simply. "I take it you're no friend of Vrook's, but he already made his decision. We're on our own, if we even choose to go at all."

Nantaris smiled, a curious response to such news, his green eyes gleaming, "Aye, lass, that's where I come in. Vrook and I have been in a constant state of disagreement since we've reconvened the Order. He's stuck on the past and on his personal bias. You should not have taken Mister Lucullus in there," he said to her specifically, "those two have too much history. But what's done is done, and Vrook is so distrusting of Revan that it may not have mattered. I, however," Nantaris put his hand on his chest, "am not so quick to scorn those who come with such news. After speaking with Atton here, I'm convinced that there is a degree of truth to your findings. At least enough of a kernel in there to warrant investigation."

Bastila's demeanor shifted rapidly, she seemed to get hopeful before shielding her emotion through the Force in an effort to hide her excitement. Nantaris continued, "If you'll be willing to stay here, I'll arrange for sleeping quarters to be set up for all of you. In the meantime, I'll pull some strings. Talk to me in a few days, and we'll see about your expedition."

"What about Vrook?" Caius asked.

"Forget him, lad. If he's going to let pride stand in the way of galactic progress, then we'll move him. For now, just let me do all the work."

"Thank you, Nantaris," Bastila said sincerely.

"It is my pleasure," Nantaris returned. He bowed slightly, said, "Now if you'll excuse me." He then turned to leave. Carth jumped at the opportunity, said, "Nantaris! I, uh, may I ask you something? It's very important, at least to me." Nantaris nodded, and Carth jogged up next to him and they began talking.

Bastila observed them for a moment, and then said to both Caius and Atton, "I'm going to go for a walk. I need some time to think." She offered no word of departure, and merely set off in a direction opposite of Carth and Nantaris.

Atton snorted, said after she left, "Still nothing. I save your asses and I don't get a single 'thank you'."

"Thank you," Caius input hopefully. "I mean it."

"I know you mean it," Atton said, "but what about her? She goes in there and embarrasses herself in front of that old man. If it weren't for me, she'd be lost in some sort of melancholy. Hell, she pretty much is anyway. The point is, I pulled her scheme to find Revan out of the fire and she's refused to give so much as one 'thank you' this whole time. Is that too much to ask? She thanked Nantaris, and all he did was agree with me."

Caius sighed, and the two men began walking in the direction Carth left, he said, "Why is it even that important?"

"It's a matter of principle," Atton said. "I deserve her gratitude and she won't give it. I have no idea why, but she won't. That makes it important."

"Well," Caius answered, "it's obvious you two aren't ever going to get along, so you may as well forget it." Atton didn't respond, so Caius changed the subject, said, "It doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm hungry. Let's see if we can find something to eat. When we get back we'll see where we're all staying. Hopefully you're nowhere near Bastila, I'd like to avoid more conflicts like these."

"Oh, I don't know," Atton smirked. "I wouldn't mind rooming near her. Maybe I could sneak a look into her room while she's changing or something."

Caius seemed legitimately horrified at this, exclaimed, "You're incorrigible."

Atton merely laughed, "Sometimes, Caius, I wonder if you know anything about me."

* * *

Meanwhile, Carth took the opportunity to talk to Nantaris about his son. He asked the Jedi, "I don't suppose you know of a young man here named Dustil?"

"Of course I know Dustil," Nantaris answered. "He's a fine lad, youngest Jedi around here." Carth could barely suppress a shout. Nantaris asked, "Why, you know him?"

"He's my son," Carth answered happily.

"Dustil Onasi is your son? Then you," Nantaris slapped his forehead with his hand, exclaimed, "I can't believe I didn't make the connection! You're Carth Onasi. I feel like such a fool. It's a pleasure, sir. I heard a lot of your exploits during the Civil War. Come on, let's go see if we can find your boy." The two men began to walk more briskly.

"You fought?" Carth asked, curious about Nantaris's war statement.

"I did," Nantaris responded. "I don't know of anyone who wasn't affected by that war. But I heard of how you were with Revan at the Star Forge. The fact the Republic is still intact is due in no small part to you. It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Carth laughed, said, "Now that you know who I am you're going to replace 'lad' with 'sir'? All right."

"I can't call a war hero 'lad' in good faith," Nantaris answered. "Except Caius, but that's because he's a Jedi. Or was."

"I'm still hazy on the details," Carth admitted, "but what exactly happened to him?"

"Caius?" Nantaris asked. Carth nodded, so the man continued, "I was here when he came back. His trial was a mockery; of course, what do you expect when men like Vrook are involved?" He shook his head. "Caius was a general, as I'm sure you know. When the mass shadow generator at Malachor V was activated, it actually removed him from the Force, it severed it from his body."

"I don't understand," Carth said. "It took the Force from him? Isn't that like taking someone's soul?"

"That's as good a description as any," Nantaris answered. "If you're wondering how he copes, you'll have to ask him yourself. No one else knows. It's not something that can really be described or understood. And that's why the Council exiled him. He relieved himself of duty as a general, and then they banned him from the Order because they were afraid. Now he's the Exile. Maybe one day they'll accept him back in, but if I were him I wouldn't want to come back."

Carth mused, "I suppose that's why he wants to find Revan. Maybe the man can help him."

"Aye, that's what I would do if I were him. And that's part of the reason I'm helping you lads, sir." Nantaris winked, continued, "I think he deserves the help. The fact that this mission could save the Republic only serves to make the decision easier."

"Well, thank you again for your help."

"Think nothing of it. Now," Nantaris hesitated, "there we are! Dustil, we have someone here to see you."

A young Jedi who bore a distinct resemblance to Carth had just rounded the corner and right into their line of sight. "Father!" Dustil exclaimed. He trotted up to the two older men. "I didn't think I'd be seeing much of you once you became an admiral. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm on Coruscant on Republic business, but I figured I could drop by and see my son."

Nantaris smiled and dropped back, allowing the father and son their time without intruders. He turned around, thought to himself, _Now, where to begin?_

_

* * *

_

Once Caius and Atton had made it back to the Jedi Temple after eating, they were shown to their separate rooms. Unfortunately, Nantaris had placed Atton directly adjacent to Bastila. Caius momentarily felt that he should do something to keep Atton from spying on her, but then he determined it just wasn't worth the trouble. He was looking forward to sleeping that night. It would be the first time in months he would be in a secure place. He thought Telos would be safe, but the assassination attempt rattled him, and he felt nervous the whole time there. Now, in the heart of Coruscant, and in the middle of the Jedi Temple, he would finally be able to find rest. But once he finally lay down to sleep he found that his mind was racing, and sleep would not oblige him, at least not yet. His mind was afflicted with several issues but they were all concerns about the members of his party, group, crew, whatever they were. He found himself thinking of Bastila a lot, though he did not know why. She had some sort of sympathetic vibe that she gave off, whenever he was around her, he felt as though he could talk to her about himself. Mostly his affliction—his Force wound. He had no evidence to back it up, but he felt that she was someone who could help him. This strange form of understanding pervaded his thoughts, and he usually found her there. His strange relationship to her was one of the things that danced through his brain as he tried to rest. The other, more pressing issue was that of Atton. The temperamental pilot had already announced that he was going to leave if they pursued Revan. Now that it looked like they would, Atton would probably leave. Caius was hopeful that he wouldn't. After all, the only reason they had managed to get this far was because of Atton's smooth-talking with Nantaris. If it weren't for him, there wouldn't be any Revan expedition. Caius hoped that this was a sign that he was changing his mind. He wanted the man to come with them, but it was Atton's decision alone. Though he hoped it was a sign of a change of heart. Eventually, as these thoughts continued to float about his head, Caius fell asleep.

He woke up early, only to find that Atton had woken up even before him. It was strange; Atton's routine seemed completely arbitrary. Sometimes he'd sleep until noon, and other times he'd be up at the crack of dawn. There was no telling what he'd do. This morning happened to be one of the instance in which he arose early. Caius found him in his room, drinking coffee with Nantaris. He had no clue what they could possibly be talking about, but apparently the two men tolerated each other very well. Caius found it strange to see Atton getting along with anyone, but then guessed he probably didn't give the man enough credit. He knocked on the open door and then entered the room.

"Good morning, lad," Nantaris greeted. Atton kicked a chair at their small table out and Caius took it, pouring himself a cup. Nantaris continued, "I did some talking yesterday, and I believe your mission is about to become a reality. Of course Vrook hasn't approved, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?" Atton snickered. Nantaris picked up where he left off, said, "Some other Jedi have expressed interest in joining you. Admiral Onasi's boy was among the first, but the old man shot that down pretty quick."

"Poor kid," Atton said, smirking, "it'd be hard to be a Jedi and then have your father show up to tell you what to do."

"Anyway," Nantaris continued, "whoever you want to take with you is up to you, I just mean to tell you that one: your mission is a reality now, and two: a lot of people want to help. Now, there's another subject that we must discuss." He scooted inwards and leaned closer over the table. "Atton here tells me that he doesn't think his piloting skills are up to snuff to go into the Unknown Regions. Of course, that's no disrespect to him considering few have such abilities." Caius looked at Atton, somewhat shocked. Atton didn't make a move. "In fact," said Nantaris, "I only know of one man who would suit your job description. If you're going to do this, you're going to need this man's help." Nantaris gazed at Caius, his eyes beckoning approval.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," Caius answered.

"Very well," Nantaris responded. "The lad I'm referring to is a mercenary pilot. He's the best in the business, but unfortunately he's an alcoholic… and a womanizer. But I don't think, as you said, you have much of a choice."

Caius bit his lower lip, thought to himself that this must be proof Atton isn't coming with them. He still held out hope though. He asked Nantaris, "What is the man's name?"

"He's a human by the name of Elliott Gallenti. If you go snooping around the bars here, you'll probably find him. Since he's a mercenary, and because he's so skilled, his price will be steep. Fortunately, I spoke to some high-ranking Republic officials. They're willing to foot the bill. It seems a lot of people are wondering where Revan went. So whatever the man asks for, give it to him. Of course, feel free to barter if you think you can get his price down." Caius nodded. "According to his friends, he frequents a strip club on Imperial Avenue every weekend. You can probably go find him there. I'd suggest you both go." Caius frowned. He didn't really want to go to a place like that, it made him feel dirty. Atton would probably want to go, and now Nantaris gave him permission.

Carth then interrupted their conversation and entered Atton's room. He said, "I overheard part of your conversation. So, you've gotten some more support for this search?"

"That I did, sir." Nantaris stood up and greeted Carth. He turned back to Atton and Caius, said, "Excuse me, lads." He then took Carth by the elbow and led him outside, saying, "Allow me to explain the circumstances." They then faded around the corner.

Caius and Atton sat in silence for a few moments before the Exile broke the quiet, "I suppose you'll be excited to go to this club tonight."

Atton seemed rather wounded, said, "Not particularly. There's a difference between… appreciating women, and being addicted to them. It sounds like this Elliott guy is the latter."

Caius's thought about that for a moment, said, "You sound more like you're the addicted sort. You even said yesterday that you were going to try to sneak a look into Bastila's room last night." He stopped for a second, then asked, "Did you?"

Atton laughed, said, "You're interested? See, you're the same as me."

Caius felt embarrassed, thought to himself, _Why would you ask a stupid question like that?_

"To answer your question," Atton continued, "I didn't look into her room, even though she forgot to close her door all the way last night. Satisfied? Or do you think I'm still like that Elliott fool?"

"I, uh," Caius didn't know what to say. He just stared at Atton, mumbled, "I guess not."

There was an awkward pause, so Atton spoke up again, said, "In all seriousness, I don't want to go to this club either, but apparently we have to. Unless you want to go and then wait for Mr. Gallenti to come outside, but I would guess that he wouldn't leave until dawn—he seems like one of those people." The pilot stood up and brushed himself off, throwing some crumbs to the ground. He said, "I'm going to take off for now. I've got some thinking to do." He looked at Caius's stupefied expression, continued, "Hey, don't look at me like that. I've been known to take time to think. I'll meet up with you later tonight, that is, if we're going to find this merc." He nodded goodbye and left the room. Caius finished his coffee and then got up to leave as well.

He rounded the corner to the hallway that connected to his room, but he was stopped on the way there. A deep, earthy voice called his name. "Caius Lucullus, I presume?"

Caius turned to see an older man standing behind him, a Jedi. The man had light brown skin that was worn and wrinkled through years of living. He wore simple brown robes and stood at about average height, a little shorter than Caius. Despite his age, the man had a full head of hair, though it was very gray. He had an odd nose, a rather prominent bend at its bridge, causing it to level off at its high point. It was certainly not disfiguring… just noticeable. Caius answered, "Yes?"

The man's deep blue eyes met his as he approached. He said, "My name is Xristos Karianis." His voice sounded incredibly natural, though very deep. If an ancient tree had a voice, it would sound like this man. "I've heard about your plan to journey into the unknown regions. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Caius didn't want to answer any questions, but this man emanated a sort of affectionate, grandfatherly presence—he felt as though he should tell him anything he wanted to know.

Xristos continued, "They are not difficult. I simply want to know: why?"

"Why… what, exactly?" Caius answered, somewhat baffled.

"Why would anyone want to go out into the Unknown Regions?"

"Hmm, I thought you knew? I mean, if you knew we were going to go, you would know we are going to try to find Revan."

"I suppose I did," Xristos answered flatly, "but then that leaves me with another question. Why do you want to go after Revan?"

"Because he's the only one who knows how defeat the Sith threat," Caius answered again. He was curious as to how the old man didn't know this.

"I see," he answered, "but why is that important? The Sith are not defeated?"

"Well, yes, they are. But there's a larger threat out there." Xristos seemed not to take the line. Caius continued, "And besides, there are other reasons."

"Such as?" the man asked simply.

Caius was getting frustrated. Why was this old man cornering him and asking these questions? "I don't know," Caius said stiffly, "I want to see if he can help me."

"I see." The old man smiled, reading Caius's emotions easily. "I am sorry, I tend to get carried away. I was interested in your quest, but knew little about it. You see; if you ask a sequence of short, generic questions long enough, you can get a pretty complex answer. Forgive me if I was aggravating you, but I do think I've learned quite a bit about your situation."

"Oh, yeah?" Caius asked, somewhat disbelieving. "So what have you learned?"

"Well, all I knew before talking to you was that you're going off into the Unknown Regions. After asking those questions, I've learned that you're doing it because you want to find Revan. However, even you are not sure of your motives yourself. You want to find Revan because you believe he is the key to saving the Republic from a threat that is not apparent, but you can't seem to wrap your mind around this threat in the abstract sense. Because of this uncertainty, you're hoping that Revan—since he's such a powerful Jedi—could also lend insight towards your affliction, just in case the Sith threat is a hoax or misunderstanding." Caius looked at him rather oddly. Xristos finished, "I learned the last part merely by standing close to you, I can feel the void of the Force within you. You are stronger than any man I've ever met to withstand it."

Caius raised an eyebrow, said, "You're very perceptive."

"Thank you," the old man said, smiling politely, "but when you get as old as I am, you'll grow quite adept at reading between the lines as well."

"So," Caius said, "allow me to turn the tables on you. Why were you asking all these questions?"

"Oh, it's quite simple," Xristos answered. "I want to come with you."

Caius tried to say something, but stuttered. Xristos spoke in his stead, "It's not as easy when the answers are direct, is it?" He laughed.

"Nantaris said that some of the Jedi wanted to come with us."

"Ah," Xristos said, "that must make me one of the candidates. I do hope you'll allow me to come, but of course the decision is yours alone."

"I will consider it," Caius answered.

"And that's all I can ask." Xristos shook his hand, said, "Fare thee well!"

* * *

Later that evening, as darkness fell on the city and the sun was replaced by artificial light, Caius met Atton in front of one of the exits of the Jedi Temple. It was time to depart for the club, they'd have to brave its treachery in order to find this mercenary pilot. And treachery was, apparently, what they'd find. The Twi'lek Jedi who served as de facto guard and doorman for the temple urged them to be careful.

He said, "Be wary in such a place. There are smugglers, murderers, thieves; you name it. Always keep one eye on the lookout, muggers frequent the place as well. And never take a drink from someone other than the bartender."

"This place sounds… dangerous," Caius said nervously.

"It is," responded the Jedi. "Hence the warning. But surely, if you just look out, you will be fine."

Caius and Atton worked their way through the bustling city streets, following the directions to the club. In between fighting through hordes of people, Caius tried to ask him about why he still wasn't coming with them. As he was able to work his way closer to Atton in the midst of a large crowd, he asked, "So… why did you tell Nantaris we need a different pilot?"

Atton focused straight ahead, but answered the question, "It's simple. I don't have the skills to fly into a place like that. Even if I were coming with you."

A stranger ran into Caius, or maybe he just felt like someone ran into him. Now, he had his answer. "You're not?" he asked innocently.

Atton hesitated for a moment, said at long last, "No." He breathed deeply. "I thought about it. I really did, but I can't do it. It's purely selfish, but I don't want to go. I don't want to go get myself killed." Caius seemed rather affected by his last statement, so he said, "I hope you find him. I hope for the best, but I just can't do it. I thought I'd help you out by talking to Nantaris about finding another pilot." He put his hand on Caius's shoulder, said, "Don't worry, I plan on seeing this through as far as I can. I won't do anything to hurt the mission."

"Well…thanks for your honesty," Caius answered sadly, "but I really hoped you'd change your mind."

"I told you I'd think about it, and I did," Atton answered simply.

The mass of people began to move again, and they shifted with it. Caius asked, "What are you going to do then?"

"I don't know," Atton said honestly. "But I won't stay here."

"You won't join the Jedi?" Caius asked, hoping he could pressure his friend into joining the Order.

"Hell no!" Atton sneered, "I'd sooner go with you all into the Unknown Regions. That's a fate worse than death."

Caius frowned, "I'd think it's best for you to join them. You can use the Force, you wield a lightsaber, and you dress like one. I don't think you should wander around as some sort of pseudo-Jedi—that's dangerous, and very…misleading."

"I don't care. I'm not joining the Order. I just want to go and get lost, now that I've reconciled my past, I want to go somewhere where I'm a nobody and just start over. Why do you even want me to join the Order? I would think that you'd hate them for what they did to you."

"I never wanted to leave," Caius answered, "they forced me out—remember? I'm an exile—I can't go back. But I'm still convinced it would be best for you to join them. They'll surely take you in and show you how to manage your abilities. Otherwise you would get into trouble."

Atton shook his head forcefully, said, "No way. I would never be able to do that—especially with that Vrook bastard in charge."

"Well," Caius said very sullenly, "then let me ask you one thing, then. Arrange for Grenn to contact you if Mira ever wakes up. That's the one thing I'll ask…the one thing I'll demand of you. Go find her and take care of her if she wakes up. Whatever else you do…it's your choice."

"All right, for your sake…and hers. I'll do that," they strode a few more steps, now in silence. "I think I'll go to Nar Shaddaa," he said to himself aloud. "Will you drop me off there? It's not very out of the way, and I'll even pay for the little fuel it would cost if you want."

Caius didn't want to agree, but he realized that arguing would be fruitless. He conceded, "All right, we'll take you there." A pause, "as long as you keep your word," he added.

"Sure thing," Atton answered.

Then the silence enveloped them permanently. Neither spoke the remainder of the trip. It took fifteen minutes for them to reach their destination, all covered in quiet. Despite the buzz of the city around him, Caius felt very isolated, very quiet. Once they finally reached the bar, they stopped. He looked up at the sign, _Vetra's_.

"Well, this is the place," Atton said. He looked at Caius, asked, "You want to wait out here and see if he comes out? Or should we go in and find him?"

Caius was seriously considering waiting, even if it would take hours. But the sight of a shady individual in a black cloak behind Atton was enough to change his mind. He said, "I think I'd actually feel safer inside."

"Your call."

Caius entered first, shoving aside a beaded curtain that blocked the open door. The inside of the bar reeked of smoke and alcohol, smothering him. He felt that it must be twenty degrees hotter inside than outside. He coughed slightly because of the smoke, and looked around. Everything seemed to be red. Red lights, red aura, red everything. He scanned the room, tried not to look at the dancers on the stage, all of them human or Twi'lek girls with nothing on. Atton threw the beads aside and came in beside him. All Caius could hear from him was a low murmur, a simple, "Hmmm." Whether he was approving or disapproving, Caius could not tell. The awful excuse for music that pulsated throughout the club was tearing at his internal organs, and he felt that prolonged exposure would cause his ears to bleed. The place would surely cause sensory overload.

The two men tried to work their way through the unwashed mass of disgruntled patrons. Even for strip clubs this place seemed to be less than savory—if that was even imaginable. Caius fought his way to the bar and waited until the bartender noticed him. The man was overweight and his face resembled a pig…and a rancor. He snarled at Caius, clearly disapproving of his look. Caius put his hand on the counter and asked, "Can I ask a question?"

"Only if you buy something," the man grunted.

"Fine," Caius answered, "give me a water."

An alien to his right started laughing despicably, said, "Jedi trash." He then shook his head in disgust and got up, not wanting the Jedi to contaminate the atmosphere.

"We don't serve water." Still the same scowl on the man's face.

"Whatever's cheapest, then," Caius said, exasperated.

Almost instantly, the bartender produced a shot of some sort of pale, yellow liquid. Atton whispered in Caius's ear, "I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

"I'm not that stupid," Caius shot back.

The glass just sat on the counter, untouched. Caius asked, "Now can I ask a question?"

"One."

He bit his lower lip, said slowly, "All right." He exhaled. "Do you know anyone here by the name of Elliott Gallenti?"

The bartender looked shocked someone would ask such a stupid question. He didn't answer verbally, he just gestured over to the right corner of the room. There was a sizable group of people there; apparently their merc was among them. Caius looked closer to see that there was a pazaak table there as well. He didn't bother saying thank you, just left a one-credit chip on the counter next to the drink and left.

As he drew closer to the throng, he noticed two men sitting at opposite ends of a pazaak table. One had a few people around him; the other was flanked by a dozen. The popular man had three girls draped around his shoulders, one of them without a shirt, as he pondered his card strategy. Ten or so other people were standing around him. _That must be him_, Caius thought, sickened. The man had very white skin, almost pale, and scruffy, somewhat lengthy black hair that was being ruffled by one of the dancers. But his dark brown eyes, almost black, were focused instead on his hand of cards. Two cigarettes hung from his bemused mouth. His opponent made his move, and then without a moment's hesitation, Elliott smiled fiendishly and threw down his bonus card, making 20. The other man cursed loudly and then threw some credit chips at the mercenary. Elliott merely laughed maniacally, yelled at the man in a surprisingly smooth, melodic voice, "That was pathetic, bring your 'A' game next time." His posse was cheering at his success, and one of the dancers was gathering up his credits for him. The man removed both cigarettes and blew a massive amount of smoke out of his nose and mouth. Caius thought that the man looked vaguely familiar. He looked up, still saddled with that ridiculous grin, said, "Well, look what we have here: two Jedi! In a place like this!"

"That our guy?" Atton whispered quietly.

"Somehow… I'm certain," Caius said unhappily.

Elliott looked at them, bewildered, said, "Well?"

"We're not Jedi," Atton said, rather foolishly.

Elliott started laughing again, and an explosion of hysteria ensued from his minions, as if they were waiting for his approval. The sound resembled a tree going through a grinder. He said, amidst bursts of laughter, "Sure you aren't. You just like the costumes." The dancers on him were still laughing, but seemed to not even know that Caius and Atton were there. All they seemed to do was touch the mercenary pilot. "Robes, lightsabers, confused expressions. And you two say you're not Jedi, hah!" He snorted again. "Well, what can I do for you, humble masters?"

This man liked to patronize. Caius gritted his teeth, refusing to rise to his bait. If he upset the man, then their mission would be severely compromised. "I assume you're Elliott Gallenti?"

"You know what they say about assuming, right? It makes an ass out of you and me. But in this case, you're right, Jedi-man, I am Elliott." He took another drag from his cigarettes. He sniggered again, asked, "So, where are we going?"

"Excuse me?" Caius asked, perplexed.

"You're clearly here to hire me as a pilot. That's the only reason anyone like you would ever come here."

Caius was surprised; he predicted at this point that this man would dominate any sort of negotiations.

"I need to know where we're going," he continued, "so I can determine my asking price."

And Caius was right; the man had all the leverage. He gulped, said, "To the Unknown Regions."

Elliott started laughing again, although one of his outbursts was substituted with a horrible, wheezing cough. The women were horrified, but as soon as he regained his composure they were relieved. "That's insane of you. That means my asking price will be rather steep." A devilish grin crept across the man's face. "12,472 credits."

Caius felt his head explode. Not only was that a lot of money, the man knew exactly how much he needed. "That's a very specific response…"

"What's it to you? 8,746 credits for this year's rent; 1,254 for drinks; 1,550 for gambling debts; and 922 for the services of these fine ladies," he said, gesturing to dancers hanging on him. "You needed proof or something? You look like you've got the means to pay that."

Caius looked at Atton, said, "Think there's any room to negotiate?"

"Not a chance."

Caius frowned, said, "All right, it's a deal."

"Oh, don't go, Elliott!" said the topless dancer as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Sorry, baby," he said, not really concerned, "but I've got to keep food on the table. Even if it's just for me." She slid off of him and Elliott held his hand out to shake Caius's.

Caius obliged him, said, "Come to the Jedi Temple tomorrow, we'll go over what exactly it is we need you to do."

"Oh, the Jedi Temple!" the man said disingenuously, "I feel so important now."

Caius didn't say anything and just turned to leave, and Elliott called after him, said, "Hey! Don't go stomping off like that. We've got to honor our new deal! Have a drink with us."

Atton caught Caius by the arm, said, "We should do it, it'll at least show him we aren't jerks."

Caius sighed and turned around. He found someone already was presenting Elliott with a drink. He had a tray with three bottles on it, all without caps. The man sure wasted no time. "It's from someone who says he's a friend," said the server to the mercenary. Caius thought that was a rather strange thing to say. As he thought, his eyes drifted behind Elliott and the dancing girls. He had not noticed before, but standing behind the girls was the shady, cloaked man from out front. Caius suddenly felt his stomach leap, and he looked down to see Elliott about to take a drink. Caius, without a moment's hesitation, shot his hand out and wrenched the drink from the man's hand.

"What the hell?" Elliott exclaimed, clearly incensed. "Don't _ever_ take a bottle out of my hand!"

Caius merely stood there with it, trying to distance himself from Elliott. His gaze, however, was locked on the cloaked figure. The dark individual went for something on his hip, and Caius didn't bother to find out what it was. He dropped the bottle and used the Force to throw Elliott to the ground. The glass bottle shattered, spraying its contents everywhere. But Caius was long clear of the razor-sharp shards. He vaulted himself over Elliott's chair in the direction of the cloaked figure. Two blaster shots blew out of the man's long sleeve. Caius, still in mid-air, batted the first shot out of the sky with his hand as the second missed. All hell broke loose as the girls nearby screamed, noticing the discreet man's weapon. Instantly the house fell to the ground in an effort to shield themselves from the attacker. Caius sprinted at the man as he dropped his gun and went for a second weapon on his waist. He was not allowed the time as the Exile let a sledgehammer of a punch land right on the man's jaw. The force of the impact caused the man to turn around completely, listing in the air, and Caius's momentum drove him into a spin after throwing the punch. In one seamless move, he activated his lightsaber and continued his follow-through. Ever the Jedi guardian, Caius's blue blade moved in one elegant stroke through the air. As the attacker spun helplessly, the saber found a home right in the man's back, blowing through the front of him. He was dead before he hit the ground. The man slumped against the wall of the club and skidded down it into a pile. Caius deactivated his lightsaber and put it back into his robe.

"What the bloody hell?" Elliott demanded as he hurried off of the ground.

Atton examined the shattered bottle, said, "There was something in this drink. Probably poison of some kind—maybe a type of anti-freeze. You would've died a gruesome death had you taken a sip of this."

"He tried to kill us… he tried to kill me!" Elliott said, breathing labouredly. "You always get this kind of trouble?"

"You don't want us to answer that question," Atton said. "We've seen things you couldn't fathom."

"You'd be surprised what I can imagine," Elliott snorted, "and now that I know I'm going to have people shooting at me, I'm going to ask for 200 more credits. It's that, or no deal."

Caius frowned tremendously, but grudgingly obliged, "Fine." He took a deep breath, "remember, come to the Jedi Temple tomorrow morning. In case you need a name, I'm Caius Lucullus."

Elliott's face dropped slightly, betraying some sort of response to Caius's name. Immediately, however, the man covered his emotions. He had probably just heard the name before. Caius shook his hand, sealing the deal, and then turned to leave. Atton followed behind him and the club slowly started going back to life. The dancers started dancing again and someone removed the carcass of the assassin. They moved with such efficiency that it was clear this type of thing was hardly out of the ordinary. As the two men made their way to the exit, the rancor/bartender stopped them, said gruffly, "Don't ever come back."

"No problem, jackass," Caius responded.

Atton laughed. They both tried to jump out of the exit at the same time and collided with each other, each man eager to escape the club. Once out, Caius took a deep breath, cherishing the air. He said, "I couldn't wait to get out of there. I felt claustrophobic…I couldn't breathe normally."

"Why do you think that man attacked us?" Atton asked.

"He was probably Exchange, same as the guy on Telos…" he turned and looked at the outer walls of the club, continued, "I think I'm going to take a shower when I get back to the Temple. I feel… dirty."

"Ditto," Atton responded.

_Author's Notes: Okay, so there are a few OCs-sorry for the amount of dialogue. I get kinda...dialogue happy, if that makes any sense. I hope it wasn't too much. Anyway, I figured I'd quickly address one of the technical issues that __**What contented men desire**__ brought up last chapter. I think it must be evident that I am not very tech savvy. So, I hope you'll forgive me, but whenever I come across a techie situation (like T3 or the navicomputer), you can all be assured that I will be making stuff up to move the plot along. Sorry for the lame explanations, but I figured I'd address it now rather than later-as it will probably become more evident in the future._


	5. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: Here's another one. Lately I've been having a hard time keeping up with this story, so if any of you reading-and reviewing!-this story would kindly hit me in the face with a shovel, it would be very much appreciated. Disclaimer: This chapter features obscene amounts of technobabble.

**Chapter Four**

Bastila was apprehensive concerning the notion of bringing a man of such…questionable values…on their journey, but even she had to admit that they needed a pilot of his skill. Atton had annoyed her, to be sure, but at least he wasn't a thug. She was afraid that this Elliott character was exactly that. Deep down, however, she was willing to tolerate him as long as it meant she'd have the opportunity to find Revan. This was, now more than ever, the driving force behind her mission. Everything else seemed to melt into the background. This fact, however, was of no comfort to her.

She lay in her bed that night, completely awake. No form of rest deigned to accompany her as she stared nervously at the ceiling. Beads of sweat were running down her forehead, and she was so overcome with the temperature of the room that she had thrown all of the sheets and blankets off of her mattress. It was another of these nights. Every once in a while, the young woman would be confronted by the sheer impossibility of her situation. She felt so much pressure and so much anxiety that she did not think she could handle it anymore. When this happened, she did the only thing she could do. She would lay, arms and legs spread out, on top of her bed and stare at the ceiling. Her heart thumped inside her chest, and she felt she moved physically every time it beat. _I am living a lie_, she thought to herself.

Ever since Revan had departed, almost five years ago, she had struggled with this reality. She had violated the Jedi Code by falling for him, something no one knew but Revan himself. She had embraced the dark side before that, a turn of events of which few were aware. When she used her Battle Meditation against the Republic most assumed it was because Malak had captured her and was forcing her to use it under threat of torture. Only Revan, Carth, Canderous, and maybe Mission and Zaalbar knew what had really happened—that she had willingly fallen. The droids did not comprehend it, and Jolee and Juhani were dead—killed in the purge. In spite of all of this, she returned to the Order and tried to resume her life as a Jedi. But she knew she was only paying lip service. The one thing she had believed in her whole life, the Jedi Code, now hung over her head. Its recitation at every waking moment only served to increase her misery. She was a hypocrite, a liar, and a betrayer. Or at least, she told herself she was. The Code flaunted her failings in front of her every waking hour. The day she was promoted to Knighthood was the second-worst day of her life. For a while, the only thing sustaining her was Revan. He had supported her in spite of her shortcomings, and he loved her anyway. When he left, she was completely and utterly alone. Isolated within the Jedi Order, a self-described sinner amidst a sea of adoring acquaintances. It was hell. And what was worse was that Revan did not tell her he was leaving. One day, he was just gone. After the battle at the Star Forge, they had returned to Coruscant as heroes, Jedi. She had nervously watched as more and more of the old Revan resurfaced, darkening the demeanor of the man she loved. The last day she saw him, he told her of some sort of ambiguous thing he had to do, and that the "time wasn't right", or something like that. She was so emotional that day she couldn't recall with certainty what he had said. All she knew was that the next day he left. No goodbye, no message, nothing. _That _was the worst day of her life. He just vanished. Slowly, even their bond was fading. Connection was difficult over such a great distance, and she could no longer feel what he felt—at least not like she had been able to when they were together. She needed him back, the one person she could confide in, trust, and love—or else she would continue in this state of limbo for the rest of her life.

Her chest rose and fell slowly, her breathing labored as she turned all of these thoughts over in her mind. She glanced over to the clock near her bed; it read 4:48 in the morning. She had not slept one wink. She finally admitted to herself that any attempt at rest was hopeless, so she got up. She took a shower, donned her usual garb, and then exited the room, anticipating being the only person awake at the hour. As she stepped outside, however, she picked up hushed voices on the threshold of hearing. Curiosity piqued inside of her, and she pushed her body against the wall, sidling down the dimly lit hallway until she could more clearly make out the voices. She paused at a corner, and listened to two men discussing apparently urgent matters. She recognized the voices well.

"You picked a hell of a time to tell me," said the first in a subdued, breathy voice. In spite of the quiet tone, the accent was unmistakable. "First Atton, and now you."

"I'm sorry, Nantaris," said Carth's gruff, but not altogether unpleasant voice.

Nantaris continued, not letting him finish his apology, said, "You realize that all of your financial backers had assumed that you were in charge of this mission? How am I going to explain it to them when they find out you're not going?" Carth tried to say something, but did not succeed. "I mean…hell. You and I both know it's not that important, Bastila and Caius can handle themselves. But there needed to be a stable figurehead for this mission. You're famous, Carth, and you've got experience. And most of all, you're not a Jedi. They don't trust us, they do trust you." Nantaris breathed audibly out of his nose. "Well, I suppose there's nothing we can do. I doubt it will make a difference in the long run…but Republic officials can be so finicky. They upgraded the _Hawk _for you, not for Atton. All I'm saying is…they won't be happy."

"I know it might complicate things, but I've thought about it and I know that I'd do much more good if I stayed behind," the Admiral answered.

"I don't doubt your reasons, Carth," Nantaris said, "I just wished you'd not…sprung this on me so suddenly."

"It kind of…sprung up on me too, to be honest."

There was a little hesitation on Nantaris's part before he spoke again. He said, "Very well. If you'll excuse me, I have some things to do." Bastila couldn't tell if he was irritated or not, any hint of annoyance in his voice was masked by that accent.

Carth stopped him, however, and added, "Nantaris…don't tell Bastila yet. I'll tell her, but I want to explain why I'm not going—I think she'll understand."

Bastila wasn't sure she would; although she did not move, this revelation hit her hard. She had come to rely on Carth. They had been working together for years. Ever since that fateful encounter on Taris, they had been partners in keeping the Republic afloat. Why would he choose to leave them now? Was he afraid of what they would find in the unknown regions? Nantaris agreed with Carth and then turned to leave. He rounded the corner, leaving Carth behind, and nearly bumped into Bastila as she stood still against the wall. He veiled his surprise well, if he was surprised at all. Perhaps he had always known she was there, for one so strong in the Force as he, it certainly was possible. She looked up at him, but in the darkness could only see his green eyes gleam, emphasized by the moonlight. His head nodded slightly and then he continued on his way.

His nod jerked Bastila out of her shock, and as she heard Carth's footsteps she hurried back to the opening of her room, treading lightly so as to avoid making noise. She had just made it to the front of her door when Carth rounded the corner and spotted her. His exclamation was not a shout, but in the quiet hours of the morning it sounded like one. "Bastila!" his voice rose in surprise.

"Oh…good morning, Carth," she stumbled. She tried to make it look like she was just coming out of her room, but considering she was facing the wrong way it was a hard sell.

The Admiral didn't buy it, asked, "Did you overhear our conversation?"

The grizzled man came closer and Bastila sheepishly turned around to face his silhouette in the dark hall. "What?" she asked, "No." Her voice stumbled slightly and then it gained resolve, said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You always were a terrible liar," Carth said somewhat jovially. "I can barely see your face and I can still read you." He exhaled deeply, "So you heard what I said?" The last comment was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes…" Bastila admitted. "I don't want to argue about it, so I'll let you go first. Why are you making this decision?"

Carth stood straighter as he prepared to tell her. He had it all planned out, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his outline faded from memory. "Bastila…you and I have been working together on this for years. You know I want to find Revan as much as you do…" Bastila disagreed with this. _Yeah right_, she thought bitterly. But she regained her focus to listen her old friend. He kept on, "It's been five…or six years…since he left. I can't even remember. But the simple fact of the matter is this, Bastila: I'm getting old." His shoulders slumped as he said this.

Bastila was surprised, said lamely, "Nonsense!"

"No, it's true. I admit it; my hair is graying—perhaps prematurely, perhaps not. But there it is. I am afraid I may only serve as a liability. I can no longer hold my own in a fight."

Bastila challenged him on it, said, "I find it hard to believe that's the only reason. I didn't think age would stand in between you and finding Revan again."

"Damn," Carth said, his personable nature returning. "I should've known I couldn't fool a Jedi that easily. You're right, it's more than just age. The Republic…" he shifted tones to discuss the matter of such grave political importance, "the Republic is fragile right now. As is the military. Frankly, we can't afford to have an Admiral gallivanting about the Unknown Regions. The decision…is not really up to me. I have those who depend on me. I can't just abandon my post for some sort of personal quest. It's just…not possible. Age only helped me realize this."

"You make it sound like our quest is a wild goose chase," she stated.

"No, no," Carth said quickly, rather offended. "I believe in Caius and Nantaris. I think…I know Revan is out there. And I think he needs help."

_I wish I could say the same_, Bastila thought. "So…what is your plan then? And why was Nantaris so upset?"

"Nantaris thought I would be a sort of figurehead for this mission. We all have our financial backers, and a good amount of them donated on my behalf, apparently. So he's got to figure out a way to keep their money. As for my plan…it's a work in progress."

Slowly, the impact of the situation was donning on Bastila. For more than five years Carth had been there. He was always stable, like an oak in a storm. She felt she could confide anything in him, but even then she hadn't told him about her feelings for Revan. Maybe he knew, maybe he didn't. But she wasn't confident enough to tell him about it. As she came back to reality, she found herself staring up into the dark eyes of the Admiral. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and she could see him more accurately now. He still had that absurd stubble on his chin, but she could see the compassion in him. He really trusted her—a huge achievement on her part—and she trusted him. So then this situation was suddenly more powerful. She realized that a while had passed in silence and she said, "I'm sorry…I mean…I wish you were coming. I'm…saddened that you're not joining us. I'd hoped you could see this through to the end." What she didn't want to say was that she was nervous about going off into the Unknown Regions with a bunch of people she didn't know.

Carth laughed a little, though it seemed he was just trying to lighten the mood. "Formal as always," he said.

"What? No…" Bastila said, somewhat upset, "I just mean that… I'm so used to you being there. What…who am I going to depend on?"

"Just because I'm not going to be physically present doesn't mean I'm going to be uninvolved. I'm still going to have a hand in this. It's just…my place is behind the desk now, Bastila."

"I…I see," she said solemnly. She wasn't very good at showing her emotions, but she was truly saddened that Carth was declining to come. After the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ had dispersed after that final battle, she felt as though the war veteran was her only true friend left. "So…what do you mean you'll still be involved?"

"I want to be updated every couple of days via the _Hawk_'s communicator. The Republic has an interest in the developments of this quest, and I've basically been pigeonholed into position." He took a deep breath and then continued, "There is one other thing…I hope it isn't too much to ask."

"No, of course not, Carth. Anything," Bastila responded. Her voice was now more emotional than it had been a few moments before. For her to get choked up was incredibly unusual, and it spoke volumes to how much she actually cared for her friend.

"Thank you," he said. "I…I want Dustil to go with you." His voice was filled with hesitation, "I know it's going to be dangerous. But he really wants to go, and I feel that it's only natural that I'd step down and allow my son to take my place." He stopped, but then felt compelled to add on a disclaimer at the end, "If it's all right with you, of course."

"It'll be fine, Carth. I'd greatly appreciate Dustil coming. I haven't seen him since…Korriban."

"Thanks, Bastila," he said, now his voice getting emotional as well. In a surprising gesture, he put one hand on each of Bastila's arms and brought her closer to him. He spoke in a whisper, "Just…do one thing for me. Please keep him safe. Please…"

Bastila swallowed, looked up into Carth's dark face, said, "I will…do my absolute best to watch over him." However, the notion frightened her a little bit. Last time she had been charged with protecting someone she had fallen in love with him, fallen to the dark side, and then been rescued by the very person she was intended to defend. Of course she didn't say this. Carth nodded and then let go of her. He turned to leave, and Bastila said after him, "Thank you, Carth…for everything you've done for us…for me."

He stopped and glanced back at her. "I've only ever done what was asked of me. My duty. But…you're welcome." He nodded to her again, and then turned abruptly and strode away.

* * *

Just as he'd agreed, Elliott Gallenti arrived at the Jedi Temple at noon that day. Bastila and Carth had already departed, and the droids had gone to wait at the _Ebon Hawk_. Only Caius and Atton met Elliott there. Their intention was to escort the man to the ship so he could get a look at it. Bastila said something about hoping to crack the navicomputer with some hacker, and Carth…they had no idea what he was up to.

The three men strolled casually through the crowded streets on the way to the landing pads closest to the Temple. The sky was clear, and the heat of the sun beat down on their heads and shoulders, cooking the men under their clothes. Elliott didn't pay it any mind, he was too excited about their previous meeting. Most of their walk to the docks centered around his relation of the same events over and over again.

"Hell of a night last night, wasn't it?" he said proudly. He laughed, "I love it when there's a scuffle at that club. It's the spice of life."

Caius was rather perturbed, said, "You realize we could've died, right? I wouldn't say that was great."

Elliott snorted, "You Jedi. You're all the same. There's no regret in killing someone who took a shot at you first. Why do you even care?"

"Because…" Caius said, "our lives are fragile. Oh, and I'm not a Jedi. Stop calling me that."

"So you've said. I still find it hard to believe."

They continued walking, Caius said, "Maybe I'll explain it to you later."

"Why not explain it now?" Elliott ordered.

"Fine," Caius said angrily, "I was a Jedi but I was expelled from the Order. Happy?"

"How the hell were you kicked out of the Jedi?"

"I don't especially want to talk about it right now," Caius said sharply.

"Sounds like a crazy story," Elliott said. Undaunted, he went back to the previous night's fight. He bounced on his feet and threw pretend punches, loosely imitating a boxer. He laughed again, said, "Oh man, if you could've seen yourself. That was a hell of a punch you threw, and then impaled that guy. Man, it's been a while since I've seen something like that."

Atton responded this time, asked, "You always get this much enjoyment out of near-death experiences?"

"When you've had as many of them as I have, you learn to take them lightly. It's the only way to keep from going mad."

Caius couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He said, "Hmm, I'm not sure I like the fact that you've been in so many near-death experiences and now you're our pilot."

"Hey," Elliott said, clearly offended, "if I weren't such a great pilot, they wouldn't be _near_-death experiences, now would they?" He stopped, anticipating a response, but got none. "Well," he continued, "I can tell this is going to be a boring trip if I'm going to have to be around two tight asses like you guys the whole time."

Atton was upset, said, "What the hell is your problem? If you think we're uptight, just wait until you meet Bastila. She's the definition of the word tight ass…in more ways than one." A sly smile curled around his lips as he finished the statement. The comment elicited a furious laugh from Elliott, who was clearly pleased.

"Maybe you're not so bad," he said to Atton. "I think we'll get along just fine."

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble," Atton said, "but I'm not going. That's why we hired you in the first place, remember?"

"Damn, so you're just going to leave me with Chancellor Grim here?" Elliott asked, gesturing towards Caius. "This sucks." He sighed, "At least I'm getting paid."

Caius didn't even bother responding, it wasn't worth it. The group continued on towards the docks, the inane discussion growing more and more useless as they went on. Elliott, he thought, was clearly a person of surface-deep interests. He was the very definition of a superficial man. The walk dragged on, and Caius was deeply relieved when they arrived at the docks. The port authority checked their IDs and then granted them entrance. On the way to the _Hawk_ they ran into Bastila.

"Good afternoon, Bastila," Caius said. Atton greeted her as well, though it wasn't sincere. Elliott's greeting, however, was far more unorthodox.

"_Hey_," he said rather suggestively, "damn, you're easy on the eyes." Bastila bit her lower lip and craned her neck. Elliott turned and looked to Atton, said rather loudly, "You weren't kidding." Atton's face actually tinged with slight embarrassment, something Caius found unusual and disconcerting. Bastila's face reddened as well, although her pigment was one of irritation and disgust.

"I take it you're Elliott," she said flatly.

"That I am," he responded. "Clearly you've done your research. I'm flattered you'd take such an interest in me, you can be assured the feeling is mutual."

Bastila's shoulders sunk and she sighed in disgust. Quickly, she turned to head back towards the _Hawk_ and away from Elliott.

"Don't get any bright ideas," Atton said. "She's a real Jedi. You won't get anywhere."

Bastila overheard the comment as she walked away, and couldn't help but feel a pang of tremendous guilt. Once again she felt as though she were living the lie. Everyone thought she was the poster-child of the Jedi Order. Her failures again began to eat away at her again. She was glad she was looking away from them, for her tortured expression might have given something away. Her forehead began to perspire, partly because of the heat but mostly due to shame.

"Damn it!" Elliott said. "Damn those Jedi and their idiotic code. Why does this kind of crap always happen? Why are you two the imposter Jedi? Why can't the ridiculously sexy woman be a normal person? This is just my luck."

"Oh save it," Atton said. "Even if she weren't a Jedi, she still wouldn't be interested in you."

"_Ouch_," Elliott said, "there's no way I deserved that."

"Uh, sorry," Atton responded, "I didn't exactly mean it that way. You'll see for yourself later, she's colder than Hoth."

"Ah, hard to get," the mercenary mused delightedly, "this is going to be fun."

"Are you two through?" Caius said impatiently, letting the hammer fall.

"Yes, sir," Elliott said sarcastically.

Caius frowned, "Good. Now let's get to the ship before I kill both of you."

"Wow," Atton responded, "I don't think I've seen you react to something that strongly in a while." He jogged closer to Caius, hoping to have a real conversation. "You're really protective of Bastila aren't you?"

Caius tilted his head, thought for a moment. He hadn't really thought of it like that before, "Yeah," he said, "I guess I am."

"You were like that with Mira too. Is there some sort of chivalrous soul in you? I don't think you need to worry about any of the young women around, they can handle themselves. No need to be a father for them," Atton said in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

"More Jedi secrets," Elliott said from several yards away, "care to include us normal people in your conversation?"

"No," Caius answered gruffly. "Come on, let's go to the ship. You'll have to see your noble steed before we leave."

The group then resumed their walk. The friction between Caius and Elliott was palpable, and Atton felt it spilling all over him. They strode quickly through the docking complex, trying to make their way towards the very far end of the landing pads. The _Hawk_ was stationed at the farthest possible end of the complex. It then dawned on Caius that this would be the first time he would see the ship since she'd been repaired. Ever since Peragus, the freighter had been in a state of disrepair. He realized he was very eager to see it at its peak. The ship had become famous for a reason, now he would see what it was meant to be like. The notion somewhat excited him. Atton had the same epiphany. Only Elliott remained in the dark as to what ship he was going to pilot. However, once he set his eyes on it, he was enamored. "Here we are," Caius said as they entered the _Hawk_'s docking bay.

"Holy hell," Elliott said, "_this _is your ship?" His mouth almost dropped, he continued, "that's the best damn looking freighter I've ever seen. This is going to be _incredible_."

Caius and Atton were also surprised. Atton spoke first, said, "Wow, I didn't think they could make her look this good. It's almost enough to draw me out of retirement."

"Almost?" Caius asked.

"Well… not quite," came his response.

Bastila and Carth were standing near the ship's loading ramp, and the Admiral was discussing something or other with another port official. A younger man was with them. He looked up as soon as he saw the group enter the area and then jogged up close to them.

"Are you Caius Lucullus?" he asked in a very youthful voice.

Caius looked at the man carefully. He seemed to be the spitting image of Carth. At least, he would be the spitting image of a Carth who was twenty years younger and knew how to operate a razor. "I am," Caius answered. "And you are…?"

"I'm Dustil," the young man said, "Dustil Onasi. Carth is my father," he gestured towards the Admiral. "I can't wait to go with you all on this excursion, it's going to be exciting. I haven't gotten to do anything for months."

Caius was slack jawed, though he tried admirably to hide it. "You…are?"

Dustil was somewhat confused, but Bastila hurried to his rescue. She said, "Dustil's going to come with us. Carth has informed me that he will be unable to come, so Dustil is coming in his stead. I've already promised him a spot."

"All right," Caius said. "Do you have our final roster set, then?"

"Yes, I believe I've got it all ready," she said. "Would you like to hear it?"

Atton intruded in the conversation, said, "He asked, didn't he?"

Bastila scowled. She looked away from Atton, half-expecting some sort of response from Elliott, but she quickly observed that he was staring at her chest. She crossed her arms angrily and the mercenary's black/brown eyes suddenly jerked out of their stupor and met her steel ones. He grinned boyishly and she rolled her eyes. She took a step towards Caius, grabbed him by the arm, and stormed away from the group with him in tow.

"Hmm, you're right," Elliott said to Atton. "She is cold."

"You're going to have a hell of a time," he responded. Dustil just looked at both of them quizzically.

Once Caius and Bastila were out of hearing range, she turned him towards him. She was exasperated, said, "I don't think I can handle being around those two."

"Well…" Caius said hesitantly, "you won't have to deal with Atton for much longer. And," he shifted his mouth crookedly before continuing, "as for Elliott. Have you considered…wearing something other than what you are now?"

She looked at him rather oddly, her eyes betraying a surprising amount of befuddlement.

Caius swallowed, said as kindly as he could, "It doesn't leave much to the imagination."

Bastila seemed genuinely shocked, she stuttered, "Well I…I mean…I didn't think it was a problem." She seemed horribly self-conscious. It clearly hadn't occurred to her before, and now wearing her usual tan, formfitting robe for such a long time retroactively embarrassed her. "Is it…is it that bad?" she asked innocently. The notion that it was scared her—she was now afraid that everyone else thought she was engaging in some form of advertising.

Caius merely responded by nodding his head.

"Well!" she said angrily, "I guess all these men are just children in adult bodies. I'd think they could handle their base emotions better than this!"

"You over-estimate us," Caius said flatly. "But really, you can't blame them, can you?"

She frowned, said in an irritated whisper, "_No, I guess I can't_." She gulped, now looking very frazzled and embarrassed, as though she had just noticed for the first time how exposed she was. "Why didn't anyone tell me this before? Is it some kind of joke? Oh no…I must have been a laughing stock!" She was about to continue her rant, but caught herself. She closed her mouth and began going through the code again, the one that tortured her so. "All right," she said coolly, "thank you for your honesty. Now, where were we?"

"You wanted to tell me about the roster," Caius said helpfully.

"Right, yes, _that_." She cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure. "Well, now that we know both Atton and Carth won't be coming, that narrows the crew considerably. There should be, all told, seven crewmembers."

"Seven?" Caius asked. "I don't remember, could you name everyone?"

She began counting on her slender fingers, "There's me, you, the two droids, Elliott, Dustil, and…one more who I want to come with us."

"And who is that?"

"An older Jedi by the name of Xristos Karianis. I bumped into him yesterday, and after talking to him for a while I decided…I want him to come."

"Oh, him? I talked to him yesterday too. It was…interesting. But he seems like a good man. Are you sure of all of these then?"

"Yes," Bastila answered firmly, "this is the final set."

As if to punctuate their conversation ending, Dustil suddenly appeared in their vicinity. "Bastila," he said, "that hacker you wanted is here. She says she wants to get to work on the navicomputer immediately."

Bastila expressed her satisfaction and both she and Dustil headed off to meet the slicer. Atton and Elliott approached him from the side as he stood still. Atton spoke as they neared, said, "Well, I suppose we should give Elliott the grand tour."

* * *

"Nope, there's no way this is going to get decrypted," said the hacker, a woman by the name of Allesandra Marlowe. She stood up from her kneeling position in front of the computer in the control room of the _Ebon Hawk. _Bastila, standing next to her, grunted in displeasure. The woman continued, "It's not even a matter of breaking the encryption. Whoever locked this really _really_ didn't want it be opened again—ever. There's covering your tracks, there's sabotaging something to the point that it can never be recovered, there's paranoid obsession with secrecy, and then…there's _this_." She slapped her hands together and then put them in the pockets of her blue overalls. "Sorry, but there's nothing even _I _can do with this, and I'm the best slicer in the core."

"Well, that's just splendid," Bastila said dryly, "now what am I going to do?"

Allesandra wasn't sure if the question was asked of her or not, so she shrugged and said, "I don't know. Mind explaining the situation?"

Bastila didn't want to divulge any details, but then she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted to keep hidden anyway, so she decided to explain the basics of the problem. "We're looking for someone," she said, "the previous owner of this ship. He left…for somewhere, and we're trying to find him. If we could access the navicomputer, we could figure out where he was last. But we don't even know who locked it, though we're guessing it was him."

"Who are you looking for?" Allesandra asked innocently.

"A Jedi," Bastila said in the most vague terms possible.

"I guess I should've known. It's weird, I haven't seen a Jedi in years, and suddenly there's a fistful of you right here and you're looking for another one."

"Are you sure there's nothing you can do anything to break this?" Bastila asked vainly, trying to change the subject.

"I told you, there's nothing—at least right now. But if you really want my help, then you're going to have to tell me everything about your little mission. No leaving out any details, there may be _something_ I can do."

Bastila resigned to telling the woman the whole story. She told her about Revan, about his journey into the unknown regions, and about T3. It took several minutes to relate all of the events, and Allesandra listened to all of it patiently. Bastila could tell it interested her. Generally, the romantic fables surrounding Jedi are just that: fables. But this story definitely piqued the curiosity of the hacker—it was a real life version of an adventure story.

After it was all said and done, the woman spoke: "Well, I suppose that you could just fly to Malachor V and look for traces of any hyperspace wakes in the area. Even five years ago, if that place is what you make it out to be, there wouldn't be any other leads in the area aside from when this ship was there. It's like leaving a footprint in a vacuum. But…that would just point you in whatever direction you needed to go—it wouldn't tell you when to stop. You might just go flying into a star or something if you followed one."

"Well…_thanks_ for that," Bastila said insincerely.

"Excuse me," Allesandra said defiantly, "I'm trying to help you. No wonder so many people don't like Jedi—they give bad first impressions."

Bastila bit her tongue, said at length, "I'm sorry…is there anything else?"

"Well," the woman continued, "since it's voice-locked, that means breaking the encryption is dependent upon an external stimulus. If you could find something that might qualify as that, I could rig it so that it might circumvent the voice-lock. It's a long shot, but that's the only real chance there is. There's a catch, though. I'd have to be there to do it."

"What sort of stimulus?" Bastila asked.

"It could be any number of things: coordinates of the right area, some sort of map, an audio recording of the person who locked it. You just need to find the right puzzle piece."

Bastila mulled over her words. She'd have to redirect their search for Revan to the more immediate goal of finding some sort of thing to break the voice-encryption on the computer. If they were able to find that, then they'd have to come _back_ to Coruscant and track down this Allesandra again. Unless…

"I guess you'd have to come with us," Bastila suggested.

Allesandra startled with surprise, "You mean…to the Unknown Regions?"

Before they could continue their conversation, Atton's voice echoed throughout the ship. It came from out the control room and to the left, saying, "And down this hall is the cockpit." Three pairs of shuffling footsteps approaching the control room followed his declaration.

Immediately afterwards, Elliott asked, "What's in this door?"

"That's the control room," Atton answered.

As soon as he finished, Elliott strolled into the doorway to look around, he jerked his head backwards as soon as he saw that Bastila and Allesandra were in there. He cocked his head in a strange manner and said, "Hey look, another one."

Allesandra tilted her head quizzically as Elliott let his eyes scan her. In spite of the unflattering work clothes she was wearing, he still noted how her youthful face radiated—even with all the dust and dirt on it. She wasn't the most beautiful woman, to be sure; Bastila had her beat on every count. The sole exception was the youthful exuberance that shone through her face—she had a sort of infectious, charismatic demeanor. She did have an attractive quality in that regard. Atton and Caius then fell in line behind Elliott, and they all looked at the new visitor. She had shoulder length, wavy brown hair that matched the light color of her eyes. She had a smooth, slender nose above an innocently normal mouth. When she noticed everyone was looking at her, she instinctively blushed and stepped backwards. Bastila interceded and took a step forward, said, "This is Allesandra Marlowe, she's the hacker trying to decode the navicomputer."

"Call me Allie," she said, and walked back into the middle of the room, next to Bastila.

Elliott flinched as Atton slapped him on the back of the head and then steered him off towards the cockpit. Caius was left standing in the doorway by himself, so said, "Nice to meet you Allie, I'm Caius."

Allie smiled in response, and after a few seconds of nothing, Caius just smirked to himself in confusion and then walked off after Elliott and Atton.

"Are they going, too?" Allie asked Bastila.

"Two of them."

"Let me guess: the nice one's staying behind."

"Caius? No, he's going. He's really the glue holding this project together, though I doubt he knows it. Atton, the one in the brown robes, he's staying behind."

"Oh," Allie said amiably. She then returned to the previous conversation, "So, going with you guys…I'll think about it. I'm sure I'll be paid nicely?"

"I'm sure…" she sighed, "I'll talk to Nantaris about it."

"Don't worry," Allie assured her, "I won't ask for that much. But I gotta eat, right?"

"Of course," Bastila responded. "Come on, let's go figure this out. I think we have room if you really want to come. But you'll only need stay until you can fix this blasted computer, you could take off after that."

"Right, that's the plan," Allie said jovially.

* * *

It took three days, but the details were finally ironed out. Vrook eventually found out about the excursion, and he did not take it very well. His reaction showed how perceptive the man was, however, as he had basically guessed the whole situation would transpire in the fashion it did before it really happened. Regardless of his contrary behavior, the man was the quintessential Jedi in terms of sagacity. No one ends up a Master by fluke.

The crew was set in stone. Bastila was the de facto leader of the expedition. Despite the fact that Caius had presented the information and gathered up most of the crewmembers, there was no way Vrook was allowing the man control over anything. He was an outcast, gray Jedi who, Vrook thought, did not care who he stepped on to get his way. His allegiance is not to be trusted. The others representing the Order were Dustil (who was functioning as a go-between for the Jedi and for the Republic Navy) and Xristos (chosen mostly due to his healing abilities and Force sensitivity). Naturally, the two droids would join them. The pilot would be, of course, the incorrigible Elliott Gallenti. Lastly, Allie Marlowe hesitantly signed on in order to break through the navicomputer's defenses as soon as possible. Where she would go after that, no one knew.

She would not be the only deserter, as Atton was leaving as well. Caius talked Bastila into letting Atton ride with them to Nar Shaddaa where he would say his good-byes and disappear.

Caius stood in front of the loading ramp of the _Hawk_, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. He regretted that Atton was leaving, but he shoved the thoughts out of his mind, putting it off until the final departure arrived. Dustil and Xristos showed up earlier than the others, said hello and then hauled their belongings inside the ship. Being Jedi, they did not take much with them. HK was waiting next to Caius and T3 was roaming about the ship

Elliott came next, and he brought a good deal of stuff with him. Aside from his bag, he had a mysteriously oblong, black case in his left hand. He ignored Caius's interest in the case and set all his belongings down at the foot of the ramp. "Hey, droid," he said to HK, "carry my stuff inside."

"Irritation: I am no bellhop droid!" the machine replied angrily.

"Just do it for now, HK," Caius input.

"Resignation: Yes, Master…" HK then grabbed the items carelessly and then dragged them up the ramp muttering something about his assassination protocols.

"Where'd you get that droid, anyway?" Elliott asked as he lit a cigarette.

"I found him."

Elliott blew smoke, but didn't respond to Caius's answer. He looked up and saw Bastila round the corner. "Hey, it's the Jedi-lady…" he paused for a moment, "What the hell is she wearing?"

As Caius turned to look, he saw Bastila had opted to wear traditional Jedi robes. They were tan and brown, completely mundane and ordinary.

"I liked her other outfit better," Elliott said dryly. He took another inhalation of smoke, "You didn't have anything to do with this tragedy, did you?"

"Not a thing," Caius answered and then waved to Bastila.

"Right," Elliott said. He then flicked his cigarette onto the ground and then strode up the ramp and into the ship.

Bastila drew closer, and Caius could feel the uncertainty within her. He realized he had similar apprehensions, after all, they didn't even know where they were going after Nar Shaddaa. That was the main reason Caius was able to convince Bastila to go there…they didn't know what else to do. They both just silently prayed that something would turn up and they'd figure out what to do.

"Everyone here?" she asked.

"No, we're two short."

"I'll go put my things inside, then." She glanced behind her towards the entrance to the dock and saw the slicer approaching, said, "Well, there's Allie."

Caius looked to see the woman approaching. He was struck by how different she looked now than she had a few days prior. Without the grease and dirt mucking up her appearance, she looked _better_, for lack of a good word. A change of clothes also helped. She had shed the ugly overalls of the day before and was now wearing a thin red jacket over a collared white shirt, and gray trousers. The radiance of her face was now almost physically discernible. It then burst forth as she smiled at them with gleaming white teeth. "Hey guys," she said casually.

"Hello again," Caius said politely.

"Come on," Bastila began, "I'll show you where you'll be staying."

The two women went on board, and Caius continued waiting for the last traveler. A few minutes passed before Atton finally arrived. He approached Caius as if it were any other normal day, said, "Ready?"

"Let's go."

* * *

Elliott liked the _Ebon Hawk_ a little _too_ much. His excitement was palpable as he sat in the pilot's seat, eagerly awaiting take-off. Caius looked out the window and saw Carth standing by himself in front of the ship. He stood with his hands at ease, behind his back, with a grim expression on his face. He knew the severity of their mission. Revan had to be found, and the Sith had to be stopped. Carth was so supportive of this trek that he was even willing to send his son, the only family he had left, on the journey. It spoke volumes to his belief in them, and Caius appreciated it.

Atton sat down in the co-pilot's seat and the two men began tampering with the controls, prepping for liftoff. Dustil strode into the cockpit as well, looked out the window at his father. The engines of the ship began humming as it was building up strength for lift-off. Slowly it began forcing itself off of the ground. Outside, Carth held one of his hands in the air, his fingers outstretched in a solemn wave of goodbye. Dustil reciprocated the action. Caius buckled himself into one of the extra seats in the cockpit to avoid falling. Carth faded from view as the ship lifted higher into the atmosphere of the city-planet. Elliott then destroyed the serene, solemn feeling that had overtaken the ship.

"Check this out!" he yelled. He then pitched the ship into a furious bank, doing a complete barrel roll. He laughed loudly as the ship regained its stability. Caius would have been thrown against the wall had he not been seated…Dustil did get thrown against the wall. The young man then scrambled to find himself a seat.

"Don't do that," Caius reprimanded him, "you don't know if someone could get hurt."

"Bah, they're fine," Elliott responded. "Now, let's see if I can do that twice!"

The ship banked hard again, this time the opposite direction, rolling over two…three times before stabilizing again. Elliott exclaimed loudly, his voice overcome with excitement.

"I think I'm going to be sick…" Dustil admitted laboriously,

"Now _that's_ more like it!" continued Elliott. He ran his hands over all of the instruments on the command console, said, "I could get used to this." He laughed again, then said, "All right, enough fun and games. Everyone ready for the jump?" He got the okay from Bastila through the ship's communicator. "All right," he continued, "next stop: Nar Shaddaa—one of my favorite places."

Caius suddenly thought of Mira again. It had been days and they'd had no word from Grenn…maybe she would never wake up. He too felt sick to his stomach.

All sound then ceased and the ship blasted from orbit around Coruscant into the vast expanse of space.


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: All right, here we go again. Thanks for all of your feedback, it's really helpful. I tried to follow your suggestions while editing this chapter. Anyway, it is kind of funny that several of you were complaining about the existence of Elliott after the last update. It's ironic because he _is _annoying, so I don't know whether to be glad you hate him (since he is hate-able) or sad (since he is an OC) but either way it's good to get a response. But in all seriousness I'll try to make him less annoying in the future. However, since he's an addict, be prepared-it's going to get worse before it gets better :P. As for the qualms about him and Atton, I'll address my decision at the end of the chapter.

One final note: I apologize for the lack of action...but I tend to get carried away with the characters. This chapter has very little action...but I promise that the next one will have some fights. So thanks for your patience and thanks again for reading!

**Chapter Five**

Caius stared ambivalently out of the _Hawk's _cockpit window. A great, rotting monstrosity was spiraling into view. It was a massive gray orb, hanging sickly against the backdrop of the vacuum of space. Nar Shaddaa—"the gaping maw of Nal Hutta" as Atton so eloquently defined it—was approaching rapidly.

"Why exactly are we coming here?" Dustil asked no one in particular.

"We're dropping off Atton," Caius answered.

Atton felt the need to justify the stop and added on, "Bastila wants some time to mull—and this is the best place there is to get supplies and information without drawing attention to yourself."

"It's also the best place to get the plague," Caius interjected.

"Don't forget cheap alcohol," Elliott input delightedly.

Dustil watched the planet approaching, then said, "I guess Nar Shaddaa is a lot of things."

The _Ebon Hawk_ weaved smoothly through the sprawling structures. The huge metallic towers reached out to the Nar Shaddaa sky, they looked like serrated knives cutting the life out of the planet. Caius could feel the rotten core of the planet through his wound. On Coruscant it was just as intense, but less…sickly. This place was rife with crime, it was as if it literally blackened his soul. There was the illegal narcotics trade, slavery, murder, various gang activities, and that was only what was in the morning paper. The planet was a symbol of all that was wrong with society. The only redeeming factor of the planet seemed to be that Mira came from there, but Caius had successfully removed her from that place. Now it meant nothing to him except illness.

Elliott maneuvered the ship deftly into a docking area far away from the Refugee Sector—no one had a desire to go near that place again. They may be unreasonably close to one of the city's many red light districts, but at least they wouldn't have to deal with the Exchange squashing the innocent civilians in the area. Or at least they hoped.

The landing was relatively uneventful, and the _Hawk_ connected smoothly with the port and settled down without making a fuss—a huge achievement considering the ship's recent history was beset with docking problems.

Atton stood up wearily and moved away from his seat. He looked at Caius awkwardly and then shuffled past him towards the heart of the freighter. Caius grudgingly followed him. After Atton grabbed his duffel bag, he meandered slowly towards the loading ramp. He moved slowly, looking around the ship, as if he were taking in all of the sights and memories one last time. Caius followed behind him and eventually they both strolled out the ship's exit and onto the crowded streets of Nar Shaddaa. Dusk was approaching, and the planet was cast in a hazy brownish hue of light. They walked a few hundred yards in relative silence before Atton eventually turned around, a sullen look on his face.

"Well," he said, "I guess this is it."

"Guess so."

He exhaled deeply, then said, "Thank you, Caius. For everything you've done for me. It was a lot, and I probably didn't deserve it-"

"Don't say things like that, it makes this seem so…final," Caius interrupted.

"Right," Atton responded. However, both men new the finality of the situation; it was unlikely they'd see each other again, and that was assuming Caius survived the Unknown Regions. "I'm sure we'll meet up again after you come back." He smiled, "We'll get ourselves a new ship, tear around the galaxy on a whim, pick up chicks. Man, we'll be the Jedi from hell!"

Caius laughed, but his eyes were starting to sting now. Both men determined to keep their senses of humor right down to the end. After all, their friendship had gotten started the same way. One crack about miners' regulation uniforms, and then the two exchanged sarcastic banter for almost a year straight. Now it was finally coming to an end. "That'll be great," Caius said. He gulped, "What…what do you plan to do now?"

Atton shrugged, "I don't know. I've got my bag, I'll probably go get a room at a hotel, see what happens from there. I've got enough money to last me a while, even on Nar Shaddaa."

"Well," Caius smirked as he put his hand on Atton's shoulder. He determined not to let any sort of emotion show on his face, though it was getting incredibly difficult, "take care of yourself, Atton. Don't go getting thrown into any Force cages, I won't be around to bail you out," he added with a choked laugh.

"Don't worry about me, it's _you_ that needs to be careful. Don't try to save the galaxy by yourself, all right?"

In a surprising gesture, Caius pulled Atton close and hugged him. Atton didn't expect it, to say the least, as his body immediately stiffened in response. Slowly, he awkwardly patted Caius on the back and then said, "Uh, easy man, they're going to think we're gay."

Caius let go of him and stepped back, said, "Sorry, Atton. It's just…well, thank _you_ for everything." He paused, took a deep breath, said, "Just…take care of Mira, will you?" Now his eyes were fogging up, and much to his surprise, Atton's were too.

"I will," he said. He shook Caius's hand with both of his and said, "I promise you, I will." He let go and then took a step back.

"Goodbye, Atton," Caius said.

"Goodbye, and good luck, my friend," came the response.

Atton then waved casually and turned away. Caius watched him go for several yards and then he faded into the crowd, another lost face in the throng of people. The Exile breathed out slowly and then looked up towards the darkening sky. He had not felt this sad in quite a long time. Only when he thought Mira had died had he been so profoundly moved by something. He hoped deep down that he would see his friend again, but he knew in his mind that the odds were against it.

He lost himself in thought as he strolled back to the _Ebon Hawk_. It didn't take him long to get there, and when he boarded the ship, Allie greeted him.

"Hey, Caius," she said pleasantly, her voice filled with a sort of natural happiness.

"Hello," he said rather curtly and then walked past her.

She knew that he didn't really want to be disturbed, so she just relayed her message, "I only wanted to tell you that Elliott managed to disappear a while ago—he hasn't been back. Bastila and Xristos went looking for him."

"Ah, damn," Caius said, "well, I suppose that gives me time to rest."

"Um," she continued, "do you think I could go looking around the area? I've never been here, but I know that it's a slicer's paradise. I'd like to go look around."

Caius turned and looked back at her for a second. She seemed somewhat innocent of the true nature of Nar Shaddaa—there was a kind of inner childishness in her. That's not to say she was immature at all, but she just seemed inherently young. _You don't know how old she is_, Caius's inner voice told himself. _I'd guess 25…maybe 26_. He regained his focus and said, "Take Dustil with you."

"Why, exactly?" she asked.

"For protection."

"I know how to shoot a gun, if that's what you mean," she said indignantly.

"Nar Shaddaa is different," Caius answered. "Just take him with you, I'll feel safer knowing he's there."

She shrugged, "All right. I'll see you later."

Dustil emerged from the communications room and walked briskly past Caius on the way out. The Exile stopped him and said, "Dustil, if it looks like there's going to be any kind of trouble, just lead her on back to the ship. We don't want to make an incident."

He nodded in agreement and followed after Allie. She beamed a smile at him in greeting and they walked away quickly.

Caius waited until they broke his line of sight and then he left the open area of the _Hawk_. He made his way towards his quarters in the port side of the ship, but stopped to talk to HK first. He said, "HK, I'm going to go rest for a while. Guard the ship. If anyone you don't know as part of this crew even tries to get within five feet of the bird, kill them."

HK's photoreceptors gleamed. He gripped his massive carbine and bellowed without a descriptor, "With pleasure, master."

* * *

_The dream started out differently, but the setting was always the same. The war was going badly. The Republic was reeling; an enemy consumed only with lust for battle was mauling the beacon of civilization that had stood solidly for thousands of years. And there he was—alone. He was an idealist, fighting for what was right. But nothing had prepared him for this. So desperate were the times that a brash, young Knight such as he was pressured into a role as a Brigadier General. It was too much authority. He was afraid. He could not lead these men, he could not even lead himself. But here he was. Alone with two thousand other men. They gazed at him with sullen, bleary looks as he walked past. What lives that remained after repeated enemy attacks were taken by disease and sickness. This place was worse than imaginable. It was bloody, humid, violent. It was raining, always, a torrential downpour that would drive the soldiers insane as they could not evade the incessant tap, tap, tapping. It was their last stand._

_It was Dxun._

_This time General Caius Lucullus meandered aimlessly through the shattered ranks of his men. No amount of briefing had prepared them for this battle; the textbook had gone out the window. There was no order or sense of cohesion within the army. Guerilla tactics prevailed. They had to learn and adapt on the fly as they tried to navigate the jungle. Revan supposedly had a grand, master plan for this moon. He would achieve victory with his strategic brilliance. But here on the moon's surface, Revan may as well have been in a different universe. All the soldiers knew was that which was in front of them—and all that was in front of them was mud, blood, and the rain._

_Caius tried desperately to motivate them, but it was of no avail. They could see the lack of certainty in his eyes too. It was days before their massive offensive was to begin, and the Republic was still trying to infiltrate the planet, land enough forces on the surface in order to take the world from their brutal aggressors. In the meantime, Caius and his 9th Brigade fought vicious skirmishes with Mandalorian scout troops. It often turned to melee combat, and Caius would be forced to join the fray—igniting his blue beam and cutting a swath through their disorganized soldiers. He had several other Jedi under his command, and it was by their influence alone that they were able to hold the 9th together this long. They were seasoned soldiers, to be sure, but nothing could prepare them for this._

_In the air, the Republic was still grappling for superiority with the Mandalorian air defenses. Small, snub-nosed fighters dueled in the stratosphere, shrieking through the dreary sky and blasting the hell out each other. At first the Republic soldiers cheered the victories their airborne brethren achieved, but after days of relentless battling they no longer could muster the energy to care._

_This was the scene of Caius's dream: another air battle. There was a terrific dogfight taking place right above the land his brigade had staked out. While dusk turned to night, there was seemingly nothing to do but stare down the rain and watch the fearsome duel. One Republic scout ship was holding its own against two superior Mandalorian interceptors. Caius sat on top of a large boulder, a makeshift tarp behind him trying pathetically to hold back the rain. He observed the battle lackadaisically, subconsciously rooting for the woefully overmatched Republic fighter. The lone pilot tailed a wild Mandalorian fighter, trying valiantly to lock onto it. The second enemy fighter, in turn, steadied itself behind the Republic pilot. They moved together in this tandem for several minutes before the allied pilot made an error. The ship wagered on a rushed shot at the enemy fighter. A missile fired, streaking through the night sky, but it veered wide and missed its target. Almost instantly, the second Mandalorian craft opened fire, having caught the Republic ship in its sights. A torrent of blaster fire erupted from the snout of the ship, and its shots rang true. The lasers wracked the hull of the Republic scout ship, and fire exploded off of its side, metal blowing off of its side._

_Caius looked down at the mud, frowning. Somehow that air battle seemed a microcosm of the whole war effort. Before he could muse further about the philosophical ramifications of the dogfight he was distracted by the raised voices. He looked up, and his stomach leapt. The Republic ship, now a flaming comet, was hurtling right towards their position. The area seemed to illuminate in a brilliant orange glow as the comet drew closer. Caius instinctively threw himself to the ground and the ship screamed overhead, spewing ash and flame onto the ground below it. There was a huge thud and the sound of twisting metal and snapping trees as the craft pounded into the ground behind him. The sound of that plane hitting the ground was unmistakable, and something he had never forgotten._

_He raised himself out of the mud and wiped his face off. There was another loud thud, but this was different. Caius didn't remember this from the battle. He tried to reason where it came from, and slowly the real world and the dream world began to intertwine. There was another loud noise, and he was jolted from his sleep._

_

* * *

_

Caius shot upright out of his bunk in the port side of the _Ebon Hawk_. The third noise he now heard more clearly. Instinctively, he made sure his lightsaber was on his belt and left the sleeping quarters. He treaded lightly, hoping to avoid making sound. He wasn't sure what was happening, but his intuition, perhaps influenced by his Force sensitivity, told him to be careful. The ship was dark, and he found it odd that there were no traces of any of his crewmembers on board. He crept quietly through the back hall of the ship towards the cargo hold. In his grayed vision, obscured by darkness, he could make out a large silhouette moving through the hall. It took a right and stopped in front of the med room. Caius couldn't see what was happening, but then the figure let out a devilish snicker and spoke.

"Well," said a gruff, masculine voice in a very suggestive manner, "what do we have _here_?" He laughed snidely again. There was a little movement, and then Caius saw the figure pull back out of the medical room, tugging a smaller shadow with it. After a small scuffle, Caius saw that the large man had Allie with him. He spun her through the hall and stopped her with her back to the cargo hold. He was holding both of her wrists firmly, and letting out a quiet, guttural laugh. Allie struggled to free herself, but could not. Then man then yanked her closer to him and said something Caius couldn't hear as he quietly drew closer. Allie used the close proximity to attempt a swift kick to the man's groin. A painful expulsion of air said that her kick was successful. She tried to then jump away, but the man managed to keep one firm hand on her left wrist. In a fit of rage, the thug then used his strength to throw her into the cargo hold. She stumbled backwards and slammed into a crate. Caius crept closer still. Allie shuffled backwards as far as she could, and the man began to walk slowly towards her.

His voice was higher and more labored now, but he still mustered the will to speak, said, "You _whore_. You're going to wish you were _dead_ after I'm through with you."

Caius was now close enough. Before the man could take another step towards her, the Exile jumped him from behind. The thug hadn't any time to scream before Caius's hand was over his mouth, muffling any noise he made. There was a brief struggle in which Allie looked on, horrified and immobile. The short grapple ended with a grotesque snap as the thug's head spun in an unnatural way. His body went limp and Caius lowered him gently to the ground. He looked up and saw Allie's normally bright brown eyes were transformed by fear. She got up off of the ground and stumbled towards him.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

"I…I think so," she said, her voice broken slightly.

"Where is everyone else?" Caius asked.

"They…" she took a deep breath and tried again, "they haven't come back yet."

_Then it is just us and the droids_, Caius reasoned to himself. There were other noises coming from the ship, no doubt more thugs who would quickly realize that their comrade was missing. "Allie," there wasn't any time for more words, "hide." She quickly ducked behind a huge metal box and Caius pulled out his lightsaber. He didn't activate it, but he hurried toward the cockpit, hoping to stop anyone from commandeering the vessel. _Where the hell is HK?_ he thought to himself.

His thoughts were interrupted with an abbreviated curse. "Holy shi-" someone exclaimed from near the communications room of the _Hawk_. The scream that followed his shout was one of the most horrific things Caius had ever heard. The man's voice mutated into a shrieking wail of anguish the likes of which he did not think possible. Caius followed the noise into the main briefing area of the ship. On the ground he saw why. The image was even more horrific than the sound. He nearly retched as he saw a charred body sprawled on the ground. The skin had been burnt off and what remained of the man's head was contorted into a painful, screaming expression. The rest of it was just a mangled heap of burnt flesh.

More noises rang out from the cockpit this time. There were muted screams and three blaster shots. Caius ran past the dead body towards the front of the ship. He turned on his lightsaber and sprinted. Once he got there, however, he saw that the fight was over. There were three more bodies strewn across the ground. Right behind them stood the towering figure of the assassin droid. His right arm was outstretched, clamped about the neck of the last remaining attacker. The man was still alive, his feet kicking wildly as HK was choking the life out of him. He stood no chance. The droid was the image of killing efficiency. Caius often wondered what made him so good at killing. He had thought it might have been craftsmanship or the design of the droid, but right then he understood why: the droid had no capacity for remorse. HK's hand closed around the man's neck with the emotionless serenity only a machine could exhibit. Within moments the man was dead and the droid dropped him to the ground.

Caius turned off his weapon and approached HK, asked, "Is that all of them?"

"Answer: Yes, master," the droid responded. "Statement: They were Exchange hit men. I am not sure if they intended to commandeer the _Ebon Hawk_ or to wait here and ambush everyone, but I am pleased to report that they have not succeeded."

"I can see that…" Caius said, "How did they get on the ship?"

"Answer: When I observed how many were approaching, I reasoned that, tactically, it was more sound to let them come inside unopposed and pick them off one by one. The percentages would then be in my favor."

Caius didn't like the way the droid saw everything in numbers, he said, "But one of them was going to rape Allie. He would've if I hadn't stopped him in time."

"Statement: But he did not," answered the droid, "he failed. I do not see the problem."

"But he _almost_ did!" exclaimed Caius, "you shouldn't have just let them come inside like that. It was too dangerous!"

"Irritation: Master, you are dealing in a hypothetical situation. The fact of the matter is my strategy worked flawlessly. You and the female mechanic are alive and well, and the assailants are dead. There is no _almost_."

Caius hated arguing, especially with this droid. There was no winning against a machine. "All right," he conceded, "but _next_ time, make sure that it's not a possibility. I don't want anything happening to any of the crew."

"Concession: Yes, master. I shall endeavor to confront them head on next time."

Caius frowned. Sarcasm…from a droid. "Thank you, HK," he said bitterly, "and take these bodies outside and throw them over the side of the landing pad."

The droid replied in the affirmative and marched off to begin his work. Caius hurried back to the cargo hold. Allie had emerged from her hiding spot and was moving through the hall when he found her. "Are you all right?" he asked again.

She walked closer to him, said, "Yeah…I'm fine."

He turned on the lights of the med room and looked at her, not listening. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes red. Her normally joyous face was marred with a large bruise and her bottom lip was split. She would likely get a black eye. "Come on," he said, "you're hurt. Here, take a medpac—we have enough for an army in here."

He pulled her into the medical room and gave her the pack. "I'm not the best healer. When Xristos comes back we'll have him take a look at you." He paused for a moment, "Speaking of him, where is he? And Dustil and Bastila?"

"Like I said earlier, Xristos and Bastila went looking for Elliott. When we came back, Dustil left too. He figured I'd be fine on the ship with you and the droids." Caius was pained to see that she no longer thought that true.

"I'm sorry I didn't get there earlier," he said sheepishly, "I was…asleep."

"No, it's all right," she consoled him, "you did come—that's all that matters." She smiled at him. Whether or not it was forced, it didn't matter. In spite of her beaten countenance, her smile immediately brightened the room. Glistening would be an understatement.

"Well," Caius said, "I guess there's nothing to do but wait for them. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_," she said, "don't worry about me." She got up off of the cot in the medical room to leave. She then continued, "I'm tired. I need to sleep, but I don't think I can. Do you think…" she seemed hesitant to ask, "could you keep watch in the front of the ship? I don't trust that droid…I'd sleep better if I knew."

Caius stood up, said, "Sure, I don't trust the droid either…and I got my sleep already."

"Thank you," Allie said sincerely.

Caius then followed Allie towards the _Hawk'_s loading ramp. She and Bastila slept in the starboard dormitories, so she would be dangerously close to any more attackers should they come. All of the men in the crew slept on the other side of the ship. It wasn't that anyone doubted their chivalry, it was mostly just to keep Elliott away from the two women. Perhaps they would have to flip the arrangements.

As they neared the loading ramp, they saw HK dragging off the last of the Exchange thugs off of the ship. He then heaved the carcass into the void of the Nar Shaddaa inner city depths. The macabre nature of the image seemed to affect Allie and she said somewhat quietly, "I feel kinda out of my league with all this going on. I mean, there's four Jedi, the best pilot on Coruscant, and an assassin droid. And then there's…me."

"What do you mean?" Caius asked. They stopped right at the mouth of the loading ramp.

"I mean that…" she didn't know how to phrase it. She said, "I don't want to be a liability."

Caius didn't want to have to console her about it, he didn't like having to inform people of their own necessity, but he figured he owed it to Allie since she was almost violated in the worst way and it was partially his fault. "No, you're not a liability. You're a very important young woman." It was a lame statement, to be sure, but it was the best he could muster.

She laughed, "I wouldn't say young."

"Really? How old are you then?" Caius asked. He was certain that she didn't have the proper understanding of age. She probably thought Bastila was old. He was rapidly approaching forty, having "celebrated" his thirty-eighth birthday by being thrown into a force cage on Telos. And on top of that, as Mira said, he "looked like a hundred inside." It was true, he had seen more in his four decades than most would ever dream.

So her answer surprised him, "Thirty-three," she said, the smirk running off of her face. "I'll be thirty-four next month." She titled her head, said, "You look surprised. Hmm, you're not that much older than me."

"No…I guess not." He was truly shocked. She looked like she had just graduated from college. There was no way she could be that close to his age. Of course, it was not as though thirty-three was old, it wasn't, but he had guessed almost a decade younger and this truly surprised him. But he didn't think she had reason to lie…unless it was a joke of some kind. He just said, "Well, I just didn't expect it."

"And how old did you expect?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered, "younger than Bastila. Somewhere in your mid-twenties. I hope you'll take that as a compliment…"

"Sure," she said. He couldn't tell if she did or didn't, though. "But that's not what I meant by a liability," she continued, returning to the point of the conversation. "I mean…like, fighting. I can't fight. Everyone else around here can defend themselves but me. I just…I just don't want to get hurt…I almost just did."

Caius understood her now, said, "You won't. I promise."

Her face lightened, she said, "Thanks, Caius." She then took two steps backwards towards the dormitories and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Caius dutifully watched over the ship for the next hour. It was well into the night, darkness cast upon the planet and draping itself all over the ship as it waited on the landing pad. He sat idly in the garage of the _Hawk_ where the swoop bike would sit—if they had one. HK was perched next to him. The darkness was complete, but it was somehow comforting to him as he sat. He felt as though the lack of visibility afforded him safety. He looked out the open loading ramp of the ship, awaiting any more attackers—however, considering how poorly their first invasion went, it was likely they'd either come back with an army or never. Caius figured that they were simply more bounty hunting thugs who figured they could cash in on the ridiculous price on his head, at this point he was no longer concerned with the likes of them.

What did concern him, though, was how long everyone had been missing. At first it just seemed trivial, but as the hours passed and he didn't hear from Xristos, Bastila, or Dustil, he grew more worried. If they had just gone off to find Elliott, then they should be back soon. What was more confusing was that Dustil had taken off an hour or more after they had left and hadn't returned either. He was wondering whether he should take action when he finally got a sign, or heard one.

Instead of the thumping that heralded the arrival of the thugs, he instead heard muted voices approaching. There were muffled footsteps, and the voices drew closer very slowly. At length, he was able to pick out Bastila's distinct accent. Following that, he heard Xristos's unmistakably deep voice. Caius stood up and walked towards the loading ramp to see what they were doing. The image confused him. Both Jedi had one arm around the back of a limp third figure, who they were dragging slowly towards the ship, trying to get him to walk. Caius, after a moment's hesitation, leapt down the ramp and towards them.

"What happened?" he asked, completely befuddled. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the limp body was that of Elliott.

"He's bordering on acute alcohol poisoning," Xristos answered.

"You mean…he did this to himself?" Caius asked.

Bastila nodded, Xristos supplemented, "He's an alcoholic, we shouldn't be this surprised by it."

"But we're _dependent_ on this man," Bastila hissed, "what does this say of our mission? We're one day into it, and our pilot's gotten himself this drunk? He could die."

"I doubt that," Xristos said as they began to lift a delirious Elliott inside the ship. "He may be ill, but I did enough to save his life. It's not as if we can take him to a doctor anyway, we're on Nar Shaddaa, you're not going to find a doctor around here that isn't crooked or high on his own prescriptions."

"Where's Dustil?" Caius asked.

"He is not here? Then I don't know," Xristos responded.

"Well, that's reassuring. Allie said he went looking for you."

Bastila sighed, "It's just an idiotic circle we're running in. This is pathetic, we're entrusted with saving the galaxy, but instead we're chasing our tails on Nar Shaddaa."

They dragged Elliott into the _Hawk_ and moved him into the medical room. Xristos sat him down on a cot and ripped Elliott's vomit-covered jacket off and threw it into a trash compactor. "Not going to need that anymore," he said. Elliott's head hung limply. His eyes were closed and he was sweating profusely. He was muttering words Caius couldn't understand.

"We're going to have to sober him up," Xristos said. "Caffeine may help." He then started asking Elliott all sorts of trivial questions to get his brain functioning as Bastila brought in a cup of coffee. "What's your name?" he asked. Or "Do you know where we are?"

The weirdest response came when Xristos asked him what the capital of the Republic was. Elliott answered in a slur, "I'm going to…slit your throat…on Coruscant."

"Well," Xristos responded, "that's comforting. At least he got the answer right."

After a few minutes, Xristos had successfully cleaned Elliott up and then used the Force to put the man in a healing trance. Or perhaps he had just passed out. Regardless, Xristos stood up and looked at Caius and Bastila. He said, "He'll be fine now. We'll just have to wait until the morning. Now, I'm going to find Dustil." He moved past the two and then went back towards the _Hawk_'s exit. "Bastila, you're going to have to keep watch over Elliott and make sure his condition doesn't worsen. He should be fine, but we can't take any chances."

Bastila slumped, she responded hesitantly, "All right."

"Look," Xristos said in a very paternal, grandfatherly way, "I would do it, but I need to find Dustil. And you're just as good a healer as I am—we need to make sure he doesn't regress."

Caius input, "I'll stay up and help." He shrugged, "Even if I can't heal—I'm sure you could use the company. Or else you might fall asleep on the job."

* * *

Bastila and Caius dragged Elliott into the port dormitories and laid him out on one of the bunks. They put a bowl next to him in case his body tried to reject more of the alcohol in his system.

"This is absurd," Bastila complained, "why do we have to put up with this?"

Caius didn't have an answer.

Bastila continued, "I'd never thought I'd say it, but I miss Atton. He may have been insolent, but at least he wasn't trying to kill himself with alcohol."

Caius was about to agree, but he realized that Bastila was only half-serious whereas he really did miss Atton. He would gladly trade Elliott to have his friend back. He determined to change the conversation, and so said in a strangely distant and indifferent manner, "We were attacked when you were gone."

"What?" Bastila gasped, "why didn't you mention that earlier?" Caius didn't answer because he really didn't know. "Was anyone hurt?"

Caius sat down on the bunk to the left of Elliott's suffering body, said, "Allie was roughed up by one of the thugs, but I got him before he did anything too traumatic."

"I should go take a look at her," Bastila suggested.

"No," Caius answered, "she's asleep now—you should just let it wait until the morning. She'll be less…frightened, then."

Bastila sat down on the opposite end of the same bed. "Okay," she conceded, "well, what do we do now?"

"We keep Elliott alive."

As if awakened by this, Elliott began murmuring in a dazed state. His words slurred, but he said rather audibly, "I'll never…drink again."

"That's a lie," Caius said, not expecting Elliott to hear or much less understand him.

"You're right," Elliott said, shocking Bastila and Caius, "but I'll never drink again…tonight—and that's…what's important."

"You idiot," Caius answered. Bastila slumped backwards into the corner of the bunk, her arms crossed over her chest. It was very dark, and Caius could only vaguely distinguish her figure in the blackness. Elliott didn't make any more noise for the next few minutes, so both of them assumed that he had gone asleep.

Bastila broke the silence first, "We should've known he'd be like this when you had to go to a strip club to find him."

"We _did_ know that he would be like this. Nantaris told us. But he's the best pilot we could get, and as much as I hate to say it, we need him."

She blew out of her mouth, said, "At this rate, we're not going anywhere."

"I wouldn't say there's a rush," Caius responded, "I mean, do we even know where we are going?"

Bastila didn't respond for a moment. Eventually, she said simply, "No."

"Then I guess waiting around for Elliott to come out of his self-inflicted stupor isn't really conflicting with our plans."

"No," Bastila said irritably, "but it's not helping us find Revan any faster."

"I suppose," he answered. As soon as Bastila finished, however, the utterance of Revan's name re-routed his line of thought. It occurred to him how strange it was that everywhere he went, or whoever was with him, somehow Revan was connected. It was if he was the center of the universe—everyone around him was orbiting. Even as Caius had journeyed across the galaxy, he had done so in Revan's ship, and answered for things he had done in Revan's name. And then Kreia revealed to him that he was to go fight with Revan. Their fates seemed to be intertwined. He was curious, though, how the others fit into the mold. Why was Bastila here, exactly?

She stewed in silence, and Caius raised the question, though he did so by following the same line of thought that had arisen within his own mental dialogue. He said, "Do you get the feeling that there's something bigger going on around us?"

Her silence ended and was met with confusion. "What do you mean?" she said.

"I guess…I mean Revan. We all seem to be connected to him somehow. Everything I've done in the past ten years of my life can be linked to that man. His name inspires people, it seems. We wouldn't have been able to get the support to go after anyone else in the Unknown Regions. Only him…" he took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. "I guess what I'm saying is: I'm curious how we're all connected to him."

"I don't follow," Bastila said coldly, "I'm not any more connected to him than anyone else." Her voice was rather blunt and Bastila worried, _Oh dear, was I too defensive?_ She really did not want to talk about Revan in this way, she was afraid of divulging any sort of incriminating information about her relationship with him. _But Caius isn't a Jedi_, her inner voice told her, _he won't care_.

"Wow…I didn't try to be offensive," Caius said, ignorant of her contemplating. "I didn't mean to imply that you were irrelevant…"

Bastila interrupted him, said, "No, that's not it." She heaved a sigh, "Don't worry about it. It's complicated."

Caius shifted and leaned back against the side of the bunk. "What's complicated? You mean your reason for searching for Revan?"

She cursed herself inwardly. A stupid slip of the tongue and she had just implicated herself. She shouldn't have said "complicated". What was she thinking? _You fret too much_, her conscience said; _Caius cares nothing for your feelings for Revan. It's not as if you're speaking to Vrook._ She unconsciously tilted her head as she rebutted her own argument. _No, there's no reason to tell anyone about this_, she responded. Her voice battled her, _It's too late for that_.

"I see you don't want to answer," Caius said drearily. He then yawned.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't really know what to say. My motives for searching for him…I haven't thought about it much."

Caius's eyebrows rose. It was dark, so Bastila didn't see, but he found her answer…questionable. "You haven't thought about it?" he accused, "but you're about to go off to the Unknown Regions for him? That's rather…rash." His tone was disbelieving.

Bastila cursed herself again, _What are you doing?_ she shrieked at herself, _you're going to blow it!_ Her voice of reason then came roaring back at her, _Look at how you're fighting with yourself. You need help, and you need to talk to someone—may as well make it someone who'll listen._ She shook her head. She would not. It was too risky. Too difficult. Too embarrassing.

Though her mind was wanting to tell Caius, the words that came out of her mouth were harsh and pointed. "No," she said, "I wouldn't think you'd be able to understand—there are complexities."

Caius didn't back down, said, "Oh, right. Complexities. Everyone always thinks that they're situation is the most complicated, or that it's unique. _I_ have a unique situation. The rest of you, I'm just curious." It was an interesting choice of words—he sounded much more hostile than he really felt. Bastila was like that, though. She could incite anger where there was none as a result of her obtuse personality.

"Don't pretend to understand why I'm doing this," she retorted rather bitterly.

He was surprised at her anger, but he realized that it was no doubt a sign of some sort of insecurity on her part. He had just spent months with a ship full of nervous people with personality problems the likes of which he had thought only existed in dime novels. Hers was probably not much different, so he'd handle her the same way he handled all the others—with a challenge. "Enlighten me, then," he suggested.

She blew out of her nose. Caius had manipulated her language very easily—though she was to blame for all of the slips. She had revealed too much. "I don't feel I have to explain it to you."

"Well," he said dryly, "we're in this together. And considering I got this whole entourage together and started this journey—not to mention found where Revan is—I figure you owed me something. I didn't think just telling me why you wanted to come would be so hard, though. Why is that?"

Now he was cornering her. There was no conceivable excuse for why she didn't want to tell him her intent. She tried to sidetrack him instead, said, "You _didn't_ find where Revan is—that's why we're sitting here on Nar Shaddaa."

"Fair enough, but that doesn't answer my question. Why are you being so hostile?"

"I'm _not_ being hostile," she asserted. Their voices had risen and her last comment caused Elliott to stir. He did nothing but roll over and moan, however.

Caius continued, but his voice was lower. He said, "I'd consider it hostile when someone questions my intelligence." It had been a while since he'd actually gotten in an argument like this. Normally he was so passive, but Bastila was baiting him. It was hard _not_ to argue with her. He wasn't exactly used to it, but his last comeback heightened the sense of pride within him. Surely she wouldn't know what to say back.

Her response was, shockingly, rather timid. It was as if she had backed down, defeated. She just whispered, barely audibly, "You don't know what's it's like."

"What what's like?" he responded. Months of pseudo-counseling in the previous months had hardened him for situations like this. He thought jokingly that he should pursue a career in psychology after dealing with all the people he had.

Bastila sighed and then stiffened. "You wouldn't…know what I mean. No one does."

Caius sighed, resigning now to never getting a straight answer from the woman. The tense atmosphere subsided and he relaxed. Bastila, however, kept going. "What I mean is…" she trailed off again. She took a deep breath and tried to gather her wits, said, "I feel like…I'm just a shell. I'm just floating through life."

"What are you talking about?" Caius asked.

"Revan!" she snapped. "You asked about him. I'm giving you an answer."

Caius quieted down and let her continue.

She said, "I feel like my soul is detached from my body. It's just been ripped from completely. I can't relate to people normally. I just float through life in some sort of hazy, detached state, unable to function properly. It's like I'm just empty inside—a void."

"How do you know that…" Caius mutteredly vaguely.

Now it was Bastila's turn, "What are _you_ talking about?"

"That's exactly how I felt after Malachor V. I didn't think anyone else knew what it was like. How can you possibly know what sort of pain that entails?"

"That's not what I meant," Bastila said nervously, unsure how she had inspired such anger within Caius. "I was talking about Revan."

"Yes, and the situation you described is…disturbingly familiar."

"I don't know what you mean by your wound…but Revan is the reason I am this way. I thought you wanted to know why I am going after him…"

Caius was confused. "I did, but now I'm curious. You described my own wound to me better than anyone has ever been able to do. But no one's ever had to deal with this except from me. How is it that you know—or pretend to know—anything about it?"

"I _don't _know anything about your wound," Bastila answered. "I had no idea that you'd respond this way. Perhaps our situations are not as different as we had thought?"

"I guess," Caius conceded, "so then how does Revan figure into this?"

"Perhaps I should ask you the same question."

Caius was tiring of the cyclical nature of their conversation, but he couldn't go anywhere, so he figured he may as well just capitulate and follow Bastila's outline. He answered, "Because I think Revan can heal me—or at least holds the keys to healing this…thing."

"That's the same reason I'm looking for him," Bastila answered ambiguously.

"What? How?"

"Because," she began. This was the moment—almost six years of silence was about to get shot. _Don't say it_, she thought initially. But her second voice reprimanded her, said, _You are a mess—you need to get this off of your chest before you are driven insane. It will help you._ She swallowed hard. Caius was waiting. She mustered her strength and continued, "Because… I was in love with him."

Caius suddenly felt a faucet of cold water pour all over his spine. Was that true? She loved Revan? She was after him because of that? _Ah hell, if that's true…then I've been acting like a huge ass_. "You…were…" he stumbled.

She merely nodded, Caius could see her head move in the dim light. "I was. And he loved me too. At least he said he did. And then he left without telling me anything. I just…I have to know why."

"Do you…do you still love him?" he asked. Elliott groaned again, interrupting the intimate nature of the conversation, but he was still asleep.

"I don't know. I don't think so," she said sadly. She took a deep breath. "I just need some closure. Anything."

"I'm…sorry," he said ashamedly, "I didn't know…"

"No, of course not, how could you? It's hard, but I've gotten over it." There was a period of silence. "No," she said at length, "to answer your question—I don't love him anymore. But I still have to know why. Then maybe I can move on."

"But how you feel…" Caius said, "that is exactly—I mean, exactly—how I felt when the Force was ripped from me. I felt as though I had no soul any longer. My body was just moving along though life of its own accord, and I was helpless to watch it. I was like…a shell."

Bastila felt her eyes water. She had not been this emotional since the day Revan left. She had buried all of these feelings within her, and now she was finally confronting them. "I didn't think anyone else would know how I felt," she said. "It was pure torture being around all those Jedi who thought I was so…perfect. But it was eating away at my soul. I broke the code…if they only knew…" She swallowed again, said, "I didn't think talking about this would help so much. If I had known…I would've talked about it sooner."

"But you might not have found someone who understood. I am glad you mentioned it, now I know I am not alone either. I don't know to what extent your own feelings relate to my wound, but that there is any similarity at all…it's comforting." He paused, "I don't mean that I'm glad you're suffering…"

"I understand," she said. "I don't think my pain is as bad as yours…and that, strangely, gives me hope. You've endured worse than I—it shows me I should just knuckle down and keep going."

Elliott then hurled parts of his dinner into a bucket nearby his bed, thereby ending their deep conversation.

Caius tried to reroute the dialogue, asked, "What was Revan like? I mean, after the Council reprogrammed him?"

"He was nothing like I imaged he would be. He was certainly different from the Revan I fought on the bridge of that ship. But he was so powerful…after they gave him a new identity…he was bumbling. He was completely unaware of the potency that lurked beneath him, the strength. It was somewhat pitiful. But…" she hesitated, "he began to regain his power. I watched it happen. He grew more serious over our mission. But he was always there for me…I don't know why he pursued me as hard as he did, but I couldn't resist after long. I know, though, that I didn't love him until after I was captured. Once I met him on the summit of the Rakatan Temple…that's when I knew. He had found out that he was Revan by then…and when he showed up, by himself, and tried to save me from Malak—that's when I knew that he loved me."

"Then what happened?" Caius inquired as he shifted backwards and into the corner of the bunk.

"We didn't know what to do. It was only through the influence of the Council that Revan was able to avoid prosecution from the Republic, so we rejoined the Order. It was the only option we had. I didn't see him much at the Temple on Coruscant, where we stayed. Every time we tried to meet each other, someone or something would interfere. But each time I saw him, I was scared for him. More and more of Revan was surfacing. Each time I saw him there was less of Naithan Garaie—that was the name the Council gave him. It terrified me. I got physically sick because I knew that the man I loved wasn't real. He was just a programmed identity…and he was fading away. Eventually, enough of Revan took over and then he left."

Caius didn't really know what to say—the story was heartbreaking. "Maybe he still loves you?" he said helpfully, "it sounds like we can't know for sure what he thinks."

"No," Bastila said, "I am sure that he doesn't. I loved Naithan, but now there's only Revan. Naithan is dead."

"Nothing is certain," Caius said, "surely he still remembers when he was Naithan."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't want you to raise my hopes only for them to be crushed. The man I loved never really existed and I accept that, that I experienced it once…maybe it's not the worst thing in the world."

"I don't know," Caius answered, "then what are you hoping to get from him?"

"Closure," she said, "like I told you. I just want it to be put to rest."

"And for him to heal your wound?" Caius asked.

Bastila paused, said at length, "Yes…and yours too."

After that, there was only silence. Neither of them had anything to say to the other anymore. They had emptied their souls enough for one night. But inside each of them were consumed in their thoughts, trying to piece together the meaning and implications of the conversation they had just had. In the end, their mission was not only about finding Revan, but also one of inner healing. Truly Revan had impacted the lives of the people he knew like no other Jedi before him.

As they both sat still, eventually sleep overtook them, and they both fell into the unconscious state where they were sitting—unmoving. They didn't wake again until morning.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Okay, yes, Atton has left. It was a hard to decide what to do with him, but I did not think that going with them fit with his character after most of the things he had already said in the story. And the wheels were in motion already before I found out how much everyone hated Elliott, and it would have been way too hard to change at that point. So...sorry about that, but rest assured, just because Atton is not going with them does not mean he will be forgotton. He still has a role to play (an important one), but he won't be in every chapter..._


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Caius jolted awake to the obnoxious morning hum of Nar Shaddaa. He was disoriented and struggled to remember what had happened the night before. He leaned forward and tried to work the knot out of his neck that resulted from sleeping sitting up. He rubbed his eyes open and looked to see that Bastila was gone. He got up and glanced around the dormitories to see that Elliott, too, was gone. The Exile hobbled lazily out of the room. He strode through the halls into the main hold of the _Hawk_, and was surprised to see Dustil standing there, working on something.

"Dustil," he said groggily before clearing his throat, "you're back."

Dustil looked up, his eyes tired but otherwise in good shape, he said, "Yes, I'm back."

"Where were you?"

"Oh, you know, I was out enjoying a casual stroll through romantic Nar Shaddaa when I was jumped by two dozen thugs."

_Must be the same group that attacked the ship_, Caius thought. He said, "That's a lot, how'd you make it back?"

"Well, Xristos found me."

"How'd he do that?"

The old man strode in behind Caius and answered the question himself. He said in his deep tone, "I just followed their screams."

Caius turned back to look at Dustil who was grinning boyishly, he asked, "You killed them?"

"Well, they attacked me first," he said, defending his actions. "Who were those guys anyway?"

"They were probably trying to collect the bounty on my head, maybe figured they could use you as collateral," Caius answered. "Probably Exchange, but the whole syndicate is in chaos right now—it explains why these attacks are so sporadic and, percentage wise, so ineffective."

"You sound like a machine when you say it that way," Dustil stated.

"Sorry," Caius answered, "but I had to spend most of last night with HK. You know how that droid is."

Dustil didn't say anything, but his wince told Caius that he understood how hard it would be to try to make conversation with the psychotic droid. At that, Bastila and Allie entered the hold as well. Caius was relieved to see that they were both well, but especially Allie, considering the previous night's debacle. Her face had mostly healed, there were a few discernible marks on it, but it was obvious that Xristos had healed her and eliminated most of the damage to her appearance. She looked towards Caius and their eyes met for a second. Allie flashed another brilliant smile, clearly having regained her unabashed enthusiasm for…everything.

Bastila strode into the middle of the room and stood in front of the central console. She purposefully avoided Caius's gaze, as though she was embarrassed about something. Caius vaguely wondered what she could possibly be ashamed about, but then the conversation from the previous night flooded back into his memory. _Oh yeah,_ he thought, _she poured her whole soul out last night_. He hoped that her confessions to him wouldn't make their relationship strained or awkward, considering how much he now knew about her. She seemed to be on edge, at least from his perspective.

His musings were interrupted by Elliott's voice blaring through the intercom. "You want me to patch it though?" he asked.

"Yes, Elliott, go ahead," came Bastila's accented reply.

Apparently there was a meeting going on and they were getting a transmission. Caius pretended that he was there intentionally and that he knew what was going on.

A shimmering, blue hologram appeared in front of them. It fizzled and eventually materialized into the Admiral Onasi.

"Good morning, Carth," Bastila said to the uniformed figure. His image projected tall over the console in the middle of the room. It was much bigger than his real self. And considering he was standing on the pedestal it seemed that the Admiral was ten feet tall.

"Good evening," he replied, "it's very dark here on Coruscant."

Bastila continued apologetically, said, "We haven't made much progress, Carth. We're still here on Nar Shaddaa."

"I know, Bastila," he confirmed, his voice holding no dissatisfaction or anger, "that's not what this transmission is about."

"What do you have to tell us?" Bastila asked.

"We have a lead—that's all I can say," he said, his demeanor now grimmer. "I wish I could say more, but this is not an encrypted network and we don't know who is listening. Suffice to say, it is a huge break." He paused for a second. "I've transmitted the coordinates of where you need to go. They've been encrypted, so you'll have to decode them with T3. Once you do that, go straight to where it tells you."

Bastila was rather stunned. Was it really this easy? They had done nothing and stumbled upon a lead? She had no idea what it could possibly be, but the glimmer of hope that it offered was enticing. Perhaps they would be able to track down the elusive former Jedi after all. She asked, "Are you sure there's nothing more you can tell us?"

"Absolutely," he responded, "but trust me, Bastila. It's the answer you've been looking for. You'll know what to do."

"Thank you, Carth," she said sincerely.

"Don't mention it," he responded. There was a brief pause before he continued, "Well, I suppose that ends this transmission. Follow the directions I've given." His holographic eyes scanned the room and settled on his son, he said, "And Dustil, let's not have a repeat of last night. All right? Admiral Onasi out." His image then blinked and vanished.

Caius spoke first, "How did he know what happened last night?"

Dustil didn't move when he answered, just stared at the empty console. "My dad's omniscient. He knows _everything_ I do."

"That must be rough," Allie said sympathetically.

"Just for once…I'd like to be…independent of him. He can't follow us into the Unknown Regions, so I guess I will." Inwardly, the chief reason Dustil had wanted to go on this voyage was to escape his father's scrutiny. It was hard enough being the son of a famous war hero. But as a Jedi, Dustil was expected to be even more "heroic" than his father. This was finally his chance to step out of his father's shadow, both in the public eye and in private. He had embraced it wholeheartedly.

Bastila interjected, "We haven't gotten that far yet. First we need to go where Carth told us, in case you all just forgot what the Admiral just told us."

Elliott strode in from the cockpit having overheard the conversation. He said, "Bitter, aren't you, miss?" Bastila frowned. "So," the pilot continued, "where are we going?" He rubbed his hands together.

"Don't know yet," Xristos answered.

"T3!" Bastila called. Moments later the little droid rolled into the main room, beeping happily. HK stormed in behind him, fuming as well as a droid could do. Bastila spoke to the small unit, said, "T3, we need you to decrypt the transmission and instructions we just received from Admiral Onasi." The droid beeped in agreement and plugged itself into the main console.

Dustil took a look at HK and asked, "What's eating you?"

"Answer: That abominable T3 unit! He froze me in the cargo hold with an ion scrambler!"

Dustil burst out laughing and Allie giggled to herself. Bastila pretended not to notice the conversation. Caius asked, "How is it that none of us can get you to do what we want, but that little droid foils you at every turn?"

"Answer: I do not know, but is causing me considerable stress. My circuits are overloading with contempt even as we speak of the horrid situation."

Suddenly a new projection exploded out of the main console. A large map of the Republic was displayed in the same translucent, blue hue that the Admiral had been colored with. The galaxy shifted and then zoomed on a small planet near the edge of Republic space. The ball then took up the whole projection area and began rotating in front of them.

"That's Korriban," stated Bastila.

Carth's voice then began as a recorded message started. "Just yesterday a group of Republic researchers investigating Korriban in light of the recent Sith attacks came across an artifact buried within one of the tombs near the old Sith Academy. We believe it's of the 'True' Sith, at least in origin. Evidence leads us to believe that they once occupied this planet—many generations ago. Our best guesses lead us to believe that this artifact is a map of some sort, though you'll have to journey there yourselves in order to find out for certain. This is highly privileged, classified information, so I expect all of you keep your lips sealed about it. We've just fought two wars with the Sith, any leak that there may be more of them would be…costly. I expect you to see to it immediately—Admiral Onasi out."

"Well, that's convenient," said Allie.

Xristos mused, "In my experience, whenever it looks convenient it won't be for long."

"Don't jinx it," Dustil said quickly. "I'd like to just get there and then leave with the map as quick as possible. Korriban is not one of my favorite places."

"Xristos is right," Bastila said, "we need to be prepared. It might not be as convenient as it looks. We can't expect anything to go according to plan when Korriban is involved." Dustil frowned, but said nothing.

"So," Elliott began, "when do we leave?"

"No point in wasting time," Bastila stated, "let's go now. It's the start of a new day, and on Korriban we won't have any _incidents_ will we?" Her question was pointed directly at Elliott. He didn't respond directly, choosing to interpret her words as a statement rather than a question.

His answer was a different topic. He said, "Then I'll prepare for lift off." He turned and exited the room. The droids filed out to their recharge stations, and Xristos, Dustil, and Allie all suddenly vacated the area as well. Bastila and Caius found themselves alone in the middle of the room almost immediately.

Caius noticed that she seemed to try to avoid his gaze. The silence was awkward as they both stood in the room saying nothing.

The Exile prodded her, said, "Is something wrong?"

She finally met his gaze for the first time that day and began, "What I said last night…don't ever repeat it."

Caius almost laughed, but held his tongue when he noticed how serious she was about it and said, "Uh, sure, no problem. I wasn't planning on it anyway."

Bastila had worried tremendously ever since she woke up that she had said too much. The initial relief that she was rewarded after confessing all her problems abandoned her once she realized that Caius now knew her most embarrassing secrets. She didn't know if she could confide in him, but now she just had to trust him.

As if he read her mind, Caius said, "You can trust me."

* * *

The flight to Korriban was relatively uneventful. Xristos seemingly took Dustil under his wing and the two discussed the Force and its meditative capabilities. Bastila and Allie seemed to gravitate towards each other. Or, at least, Allie felt more comfortable around Bastila than any of the other crewmembers save for Caius. Bastila, however, did not really enjoy Allie's presence. Of course, she did not really enjoy anyone's presence as of late. Regardless, that left Caius and Elliott to themselves in the cockpit of the _Hawk_ as she blasted through hyperspace.

Although it probably would not be an issue any longer, Caius felt it necessary to confront Elliott about his drinking the night before. Now it was not possible for him to get his hands on alcohol, but that did not offer the Exile any relief.

Caius sat in the co-pilot's seat and stared blankly out of the viewport, watching the kaleidoscope of blue shapes unfold in front of him. Without turning his head towards the pilot, he said, "We're not going to have a repeat of last night ever again." Even Caius did not know if his comment was an order or an inquiry. He didn't think it mattered.

Elliott sighed, said, "Look man, I've been over this two dozen times with Bastila. It's not going to happen again because it can't. That's all there is to it."

"I don't think you've got it in the proper perspective—our entire mission was almost derailed last night. I don't mean to harp on the same thing, but seriously, show a little more responsibility all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," said the pilot contemptuously, "I'd like to see the day when any of you turn down free drinks."

"Free drinks?" Caius asked.

"Yeah, free. What, did you think I paid for all that? Hell no!"

"Who would pick up _your_ tab?" Caius asked, "I'd thought you wouldn't take free liquor after what happened on Coruscant."

Elliott shrugged, said, "Well, I'm still alive. They were well-meaning enough. Gruff, but not terrible."

"Did you get a good look at them?"

"Yeah, hell, I took 200 credits off one of them in pazaak. He had five o'clock shadow on a thick, heart-shaped face. Black hair. Why do want me to describe them to you? Prove that they existed?"

An image of the contorted, burnt body on the floor of the ship confronted Caius. The man's tortured face was similar to the one described by Elliott. His gut instinct told him that they were the same person. "You know, your friends who bought you drinks were probably the ones who attacked the ship later." Elliott looked rather confused. Caius continued, "I wonder why they didn't just kill you."

"Don't shoot the messenger?" Elliott suggested. "I'm not the one they're after."

"Well, whatever," Caius said at length, realizing that there was no way he could argue with an addict. "Just…don't do it."

"Don't do what?" Elliott asked.

Caius stood up and moved to leave the cockpit. He froze right at the mouth of the hallway and answered, "Just…don't. If you're thinking about doing something, just stop for a second and think about it. And then don't."

"Damn. Thanks, _boss_," Elliott said sarcastically.

Caius didn't think responding was worth it, so he just meandered out of the room. There was still some time to be passed before they made it to Korriban. He thought about resting, but he had wasted enough time doing that recently. And every time he fell asleep it seemed that something terrible happened. His resolve, then, was to go talk to his crew. He realized that he really didn't know much about any of them. It was like he was starting over again.

The finality then struck him.

He'd been with the same group of people for almost a year, and now they were all gone. All of them. Every last one was either dead or had left. The fact weighed heavily on his mind. Was he really the only one left of his crew? Now, here he was with a completely new crew—only the droids were with him before Malachor. He barely knew anything about the rest of them, and his life was in their hands and theirs in his. He stopped and stood still in the main hold. _Well_, he thought, _I know Bastila well enough. At least well enough for her to tell me about Revan_. No, Bastila wasn't unknown. He had, after all, known her even before the Mandalorian Wars. The others, they were mysteries. Elliott was the incorrigible drunkard who amounted to nothing more than a chauffeur. Allie was well meaning and a very nice person, but he wasn't really sure if she meant anything to him other than a means to repair the ship. Aside from her brilliant smile and sharp intellect, at least concerning machines, there seemed to be nothing really extraordinary about her. Then there was Xristos. Aside from the brief conversation Caius had with him at the Jedi Temple, he hadn't really spoken to the man. The same went for Dustil. Those two he knew the least. _Well, I've got some time to kill_, he thought to himself, _I may as well go find them_.

Caius strode into the port dorms to find Xristos and Dustil were both in there. Dustil sat on the floor cross-legged, flipping cards, and Xristos was on one of the beds, his legs hanging over the side.

"Hello there," Xristos said jovially to Caius. "I take it you're tired of the women and the fool? You've been around them a lot lately, I'd imagine it must take a toll on you."

"I guess so. I don't really know what to make of this crew yet."

"You know a lot more than you think," Xristos stated. "For instance, you know more about Bastila than anyone in this galaxy. Allie's shy, but she seems willing to talk to you any chance she gets. And Elliott's a fool. However, he's a lot more complex than we give him credit for."

Caius took a seat on the ground across from Dustil. The young Onasi then dealt him in on a game of pazaak. Caius said to Xristos, "I don't know how you know this stuff, old man."

"Allie, I can read her emotions easy. She's no Jedi, so she doesn't hide them very well. She likes you. The rest of us she doesn't trust." He cleared his throat. "Elliott, on the other hand, hides his emotions too well for a non-Jedi. That means he's hiding something and he's gotten very good at doing so. I think he'll surprise us."

"And Bastila?"

"I don't want to analyze her for fear of guilt," Xristos said ambiguously.

"Why?" Caius asked.

Xristos sighed, said somewhat ashamedly, "I overheard part of your conversation with her last night." Caius felt a cold wave pass over him as Xristos continued. "I won't say a thing, don't worry."

"About what?" Dustil inquired.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Xristos said jokingly.

Dustil and Caius continued their pazaak game, which the young Jedi was winning rather handily. At length Dustil said, "The old man has some strange philosophies. He's not you're ordinary Jedi."

"See, that's exactly what I am talking about," Xristos responded. "What is an 'ordinary Jedi' anyway? Our Order is composed of the most skilled individuals in the galaxy, in terms of combat and diplomacy. Entire wars have been averted through our influence. There's nothing ordinary about that. No Jedi is like another and no Jedi should be like another."

"I disagree," said Dustil, "individuality promotes vanity. We can't be greater than the Order itself or we might fall. Look at history, the most famous Sith are individuals, but the Jedi are famous as a group. Take Revan, for example."

"But Revan made a name for himself as a Jedi, did he not?"

"Yes, and he fell afterwards."

Xristos smiled amusedly, "So, you think that he fell because he became greater than the Order? Perhaps if the Jedi didn't stifle his personality so much he would never have fallen."

"That's hypothetical, it doesn't change what happened."

"Yes, you're right," Xristos conceded somewhat tongue in cheek. The man's mannerisms were strange. He was reacting as though he won the debate even though it seemed Dustil had made the better argument. Caius never understood people like that. They would inwardly know that they were right, but for some reason they would not think it necessary to enlighten you. Xristos was content to just let Dustil think he had won the discussion.

Their philosophical musings were interrupted as Elliott's melodic voice blared through the intercom. "Preparing to drop out of hyperspace in five minutes."

All three men stood up and began to file out of the room, Xristos leading the way. They were met by Bastila and Allie in the central briefing room. "Looks like we're almost there," Caius said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious!" Elliott shouted in response over the comm.

Bastila wasn't thrilled, said, "I just hope we can get in and out as quickly as possible."

* * *

None of the crew could see the scene on the rocky planet's surface as the _Ebon Hawk_ swooped in over the barren landscape. Only Elliott had a visual, and he wasn't exactly sure what he saw. He reported it vaguely, and it was the best he could do. He said through the intercom, "It looks there's a welcoming party for us."

"They must be the Republic scavenge team that Carth was telling us about," Bastila suggested.

Elliott's voice came out of the ship's speakers again. He said, his words filled with confusion, "We're…picking up a distress signal. From these coordinates. Should I set down the _Hawk_?"

"We don't have much of a choice," Bastila answered.

Elliott navigated the ship through the dirty atmosphere towards the old valley of the Sith Lords. It was a place the _Hawk_ had visited twice before already, and hopefully the third time would be a charm. Dust kicked up from all around as the freighter lowered to the ground. Eventually it settled down and the thrusters turned off. The dust cloud dissipated and the loading ramp opened up.

Caius strolled down the ramp first, with Dustil, Xristos, Bastila, and HK right behind him. Allie stayed behind and Elliott remained in the cockpit. He quickly surveyed the area, dirt and dust still cloaking the afternoon sky and hindering his vision. Caius stepped onto the hard unforgiving ground, his hand over his squinting eyes. A short ways off, perhaps one hundred yards, he could make out a sort of small camp—or at least an assembling of something. He continued onwards towards it, with the rest of his party following behind, not saying anything.

Suddenly a figure appeared in front of them, coming through the now-settling dust. The silhouette gave way to detail, and Caius saw that it was a woman in the uniform of a Republic officer. She walked up to them very labouredly. Caius noticed the bars on her shoulders that said 1st Lieutenant and a tag reading "Garko."

"Are you Lucullus?" she asked, forsaking any conversational pleasantries.

"I am," replied Caius. "Are you with the Republic excavation team?"

She didn't answer his question, "When the Admiral said we'd be getting company, I didn't think he meant one freighter. What are you? Fugitives?"

HK started with irritation, "Indignant: This is a pitiful camp, what are you? Homeless?"

"No," Caius said, holding his hand up in between HK and Garko. He didn't feel like explaining himself to her, changed the conversation to the present. He asked, "You sent a distress signal. Were you attacked?"

"Yes and no," the woman responded, although she was looking at the droid. "Come, we'll talk about it over at the camp."

Caius didn't know why she wouldn't talk about it right there, considering they were only fifteen feet outside of the camp. Hell, they were only one hundred yards away from the _Ebon Hawk_, but he didn't question her reasons.

"We haven't been attacked directly," she said, returning to his question as they entered the small camp. There were a few tents and some excavation equipment set up around a large campfire. There were a few unhappy patrons as well. "But ever since we found that artifact we've been harassed by these…_things_."

"Things? Could you please be a little more vague?" asked Bastila dryly.

"Hey, little missy," the woman said sharply, her demeanor darkening considerably, "don't go spouting off those pretty lips of yours and give me shit like that, I don't want to deal with it. We've had enough as it is." She turned and looked back at Caius, "Now, if we'll be spared moronic comments like that, I'll explain what we _do _know."

Caius was surprised how quickly the woman turned sour, and a glace at Bastila showed a red face. He wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or angry. Generally sarcastic quips don't earn _that_ kind of response, and it was clear Bastila was used to being in charge and not talked down to.

"All right," Caius said, trying to keep the peace, "what do you know?"

"Just this," she continued, "we don't know what the hell they are. We've only caught a few glimpses of them, but as far as we can tell they're unlike anything any of us has ever seen." She paused and took a deep breath, scanning the desolate wastes around her. "They're rather tall, thin, and generally wear a kind of black robes. Very ornate, from what we can tell. Their heads are covered, we think, unless they have really dark skin. They haven't really attacked us per se, although they've fired a few shots our direction. Projectile weapons, but high powered. Nothing to scoff at, we lost two men to them. They mostly work at night. But despite the fact that they seem to have every advantage over us, they haven't attacked other than a few potshots. Oh," she paused, "and _that_." She gestured a couple hundred yards off towards one of the Sith tombs. There was a giant pile of blackened metal all twisted together in a mutilated heap. "That was our ship," she said, "they blew it up. Hence the distress signal."

Caius frowned, "I guess it couldn't be another excavation team. What, are they indigenous or something?"

"I doubt it, nothing lives here," she answered. "I have no idea what the hell they're doing. I'd say they wanted to stop us since they blew up our ship, but since they haven't actually shown themselves, I'd say they're just a bunch of pricks trying to stir up trouble."

"But that doesn't explain why they're here, does it?" Xristos supplemented. "No, I'd say they're trying to stop you. You say they only first showed themselves after you found the map artifact?"

"That _is _what I said," she replied impatiently.

"Well, then logically we can assume that's why they're pestering you."

"It could be a coincidence," Dustil hypothesized.

Xristos disagreed, "We all know there are no coincidences, only the Force."

"Right," said the woman, "I thought all you Jedi were dead."

"Still kicking," said Xristos.

The woman didn't say anything in response to the old Jedi. Caius then interrupted and asked, "May we see the artifact? We've been ordered by Admiral Onasi to investigate it."

"Oh, bloody…" the woman gritted her teeth, said, "yes, you can look at it. This way."

They ambled through the tattered campsite towards a collection of stacked metal crates and boxes. On top of one of them was a rusted charcoal thing roughly the size of a briefcase. It was as solid a rectangle as could possibly be.

"That's it?" Dustil asked disbelievingly, "why is it just sitting there? Shouldn't it be…safe?"

Garko shot back at him, "What the hell you want us to do with it? I haven't heard any better ideas."

Before their exchange could gain momentum, they were interrupted by a young man by the name of Whillem, whose rank apparently was sergeant. He said hastily, "Lieutenant, Stockton's picking up several blips on radar moving towards us from the southeast. They're moving fast."

"Damn it all," said Garko. "It's probably those dickhead things again. I wonder if they'll actually engage us this time or if they'll scurry off. All right." She turned and looked at the young man then began issuing his orders, she yelled, "Okay Sergeant, get everyone who can carry a gun towards the southern embankment. I don't care if they only have one arm. We should have a turret or two set up there to hold them off if they actually attack us. Now hustle!"

HK seemed overjoyed, said, "Statement: Master, I will join them at the wall—this should be glorious."

The sergeant bolted away to carry out the command, HK behind him, but most of it was heard initially and he didn't have to relay any orders. Garko turned to Caius, an unconcerned look on her face. "Third time today. They'll shy away. They can't shoot straight anyway, not with those projectile weapons. I doubt they could hit the broadside of a—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the back of the lieutenant's head exploded in a grotesque pulp of pink mass, blasting parts of her skull every direction. A much smaller exit wound ripped a hole through her forehead as the bullet screamed past Caius's head, undeterred by the skull it had just shattered.

Caius was stupefied, it took a moment for him to even realize what had happened. The woman's body just hung still in the air, as though invisible arms were still supporting her. It seemed like an eternity, but she only held the position for a moment before falling down face first into the dirt. The thud of her body slamming into the ground shook Caius from his shock. He ducked down behind a large rock as more bullets tore into the ground around him. He suddenly remembered the others and quickly scanned his surroundings to see where they were. He saw Dustil to his right, hiding behind another, larger, rock. Caius was envious until he saw Dustil cover his mouth and then vomit onto the ground, the shock of the lieutenant's murder making him sick. Caius couldn't blame him, but he'd long been desensitized to that kind of sudden death. Farther off, he saw Xristos and Bastila were huddled together behind a metal crate. He was relieved to see them all okay.

He huddled there for a few seconds until he realized that his inaction was profiting them nothing. For all he knew these things were already in the camp, and he'd rather not have that kind of surprise if he could avoid it. He gathered his wits, took a deep breath, and then wheeled around the boulder, running towards the embankment at the southern end of the camp. The embankment was a sturdy, tan wall with a turret mounted on two ends. They were both being manned and firing at their attackers. In the distance, Caius could see them. Barely. He saw several tall specks in the distance, atop a ridge near Ajunta Pall's tomb. He noticed Xristos was next to him, apparently having the same idea as he. He hurried to the wall, noticed that two of the soldiers there lay dead. Closer examination showed that they weren't soldiers; they were scientists. They were stretched beyond their means out here. Out of his peripheral he noticed that Xristos was gone. He allowed a quick glance back and saw the old man lying on the ground grabbing his left shoulder. Bastila was hurrying over to him.

Caius continued in his sprint and finally made it to the safety of the wall. He ducked down and thrust his shoulder into the side. Once there, he wondered what exactly he should be doing. He hesitated a second and then used the Force to raise the morale of the men around him. He wasn't Bastila, but he knew how to achieve very limited forms of her vaunted Battle Meditation. After feeding his energy into his allies for a few moments, he reached down and wrenched one of the blaster rifles out of the hands of a dead man. He flung the heavy weapon onto the top of the sand wall and steadied himself. The attackers were positioned on the high ground above one of the old tombs, a decrepit ridge. He aimed, steadied the gun, and then squeezed the trigger.

At length one of the figures on the ridge was hit and its body folded and rolled off the top, flailing as it fell to the ground. Caius wasn't sure if he had hit it or not, but it didn't matter. The urgency of the situation was growing, however. The enemy had the high ground, and there was no way this ragtag band of soldiers and scientists could hold out from such a terrible position. Their attackers had free reign to shower them with volley after volley. Almost instantaneously, his doubt fled him. He suddenly remembered that there were four Jedi present. Inwardly, he knew that his positive feelings came from Bastila's Battle Meditation, but he welcomed the thoughts all the same. He aimed and fired another direct shot, toppling a second figure on the ridge. HK was crouching next to him, firing quickly and precisely. The droid killed another attacker.

Behind him he heard massive gears grinding to life. Several huge blaster bolts were catapulted into the ridge that the assailants occupied. Caius twisted his neck and saw that Elliott was firing the _Hawk's _main guns at the attackers. The impact of the rounds was so great that it incinerated those still left alive and tore the canyon walls asunder.

Interrupting Caius's sense of impending victory came the voice of Sergeant Whillem. "They're moving in now!" he yelled. "Wait…what the hell are those?"

Caius angled his head slightly to see the narrow walkway towards the old Sith Academy. At the top of the pathway there were a couple more of their attackers with these large, reptilian beasts in front of them. There were two of the monsters, and they were sprinting towards the camp fast. _Damn Hssiss_, he thought to himself.

"Concentrate your fire on the monsters!" Whillem yelled to the two men manning the mounted guns. They opened up on the beasts, tearing into them, but somehow the things did not slow. Their speed was surprising, having already crossed half the distance towards the camp. The last of the snipers from up top was dealt with, and Caius then turned his thinking towards the oncoming monsters. His eyes darted back and forth all around him, trying to latch onto something that might be useful. His gaze fell upon a bloodied vibrosword that lay a few feet away from him. Without a moment's hesitation, Caius grabbed the large sword by the hilt and stood up over the wall. He reared back and heaved the heavy weapon through the air as though it were a javelin, and used the Force to steady the hurtling sword and strengthen its impact. It sailed through the air brilliantly as Caius focused on it. It arched and then fell. Its trajectory was perfect and its pointed blade buried itself into the shoulder just above one of the forearms of the closest beast. It let out a horrible groan that sounded like a stone being scraped across concrete. Its forearm folded and fell under it and it stumbled, sliding through the dirt. Caius thought his throw had killed it, but suddenly the great beast was back on its feet again. It continued its run, the sword impaled on it.

Caius was shocked that it was still coming. The gunners focused all their fire on the wounded one, and Caius turned his attention to the handlers that were running behind it. He tried to use the Force to throw them backwards, hoping that if he got rid of the handlers the beast would run wild and more importantly away from them. He threw the wave of Force at them, but much to his surprise one of the slender enemies lowered its shoulder and absorbed the attack. It was as if it were an athlete bowling over another player. The thing was completely unaffected. _Damn, that didn't work_, Caius thought.

There was an excited yell around him, and he realized that the gunners were commemorating the death of the Hssiss that he had injured. Apparently HK had blasted it with a rocket. Its great carcass lay in the sand a mere two-dozen yards from their embankment. They then turned and continued firing. Caius suddenly remembered the second monster. He looked to his right and noticed that the great beast was almost right in front of him. Before thinking he threw himself to the left, away from the wall. Right as he hit the ground the embankment exploded into a thousand shards of dirt and granite as the Hssiss had barreled straight through it. It let out a treacherous roar. The few remaining gunners, including the sergeant ran away from the wall and back towards the rocks Caius had previously been hiding behind, firing behind them all the way. He couldn't see where HK was. He tried to get up, but stumbled backwards. He looked at the gargantuan monster, its thousand teeth bearing at him. He thought it was going to eat him whole when suddenly a youthful Jedi landed right in between the beast and himself. It was Dustil, his green lightsaber glowing. He feinted at the beast and it backed up, understanding what the incandescent stick was. Caius scrambled to his feet, but no sooner had he gotten up than he was bludgeoned from behind and thrown again into the dirt.

He rolled over only to see one of the slender attackers blotting out the sun behind him. The mysterious enemy landed right on top of Caius, burying its knee in his chest and grasping his throat with its hands. Caius instinctively grabbed the assaulter's wrists and tried to pry it off, but was unable to do so. Despite the creature's frail appearance, it had tremendous strength. Caius felt as though it was going to crush his windpipe in a matter of seconds. The creature then halted for a moment and muttered in a strange gurgling language that sounded all too familiar to him. Its sickening speech slithered out of its throat and it lowered its head as though it were whispering to him. Caius distinctly understood the last word as _Jeedai_. The creature hissed a wicked laugh and pressed down on his neck again. Just as he thought his head was going to burst, the creature shrieked a horrid, high-pitched wail. It let go of him and stood up, it's arms outstretched and maintaining the piercing wail. Blaster fire then tore into its torso, its body jerking with each impact. The thing then went limp and flopped onto the ground next to him. The Exile gasped for air, trying desperately to fill up his lungs with the oxygen that had been so awfully denied him. He writhed in his coughing fit and saw out of the corner of his eye that Dustil had severed the Hssiss's head from its body. A great, cauterized stump was now all that the monster had for a head. When he saw that there were no more enemies immediately around him, he let his head fall onto his forearms, his body collapsing due to fatigue.

Two spotless white boots stopped next to him. Caius spotted them and slowly rolled over, straining to look up. He saw two blaster pistols in the hands of a man dressed in full white body armor, the sun was blotting out his face. He saw a silhouette of somewhat long black hair that fell around the man's ears. Then he heard the unmistakable voice of Elliott Gallenti.

"You own me one, cap'n," he said.

"What?" Caius said, his voice creaking.

"I just shot that guy. You know, the one who was strangling you."

Caius blinked. A very long blink, only one step below a nap, then said, "How do you keep your shoes so clean out here?"

"If that's your way of saying thank you it's no wonder you're still single."

"Is that a come on?"

Elliott gagged, "Hell no it isn't, I'm only interested in…hey where's Bastila?"

_Nice transition_, Caius thought to himself. He caught his train of thought and wondered: why was he being so sarcastic? They had just been through a battle; he shouldn't be making jokes. It wasn't as if he hadn't been through a battle before, though, and certainly ones worse than this. His thoughts were interrupted by Bastila's voice of reassurance.

"I'm here," she said. Caius slowly got up, staggering to his feet, and traced her voice to where she was standing. She was kneeling next to Xristos, who was still favoring one shoulder. It looked as though something molten hot had burned through his robe and had fried the skin on a small area on his shoulder.

"How did that happen?" Caius asked.

Xristos was well enough to answer. "I blocked one of their shots," he said. "They use those projectile weapons, really big bullets. I wasn't thinking. I blocked one of them with my lightsaber, but instead of reflecting it, it turned it into a stream of white-hot plasma and it burned through my robe. Memo to the rest of you kids: dodge the bullets, don't try to bat them away."

Caius nodded in the affirmative. Xristos looked over at Dustil, who was rummaging through the crates. Whillem was on the other side of the boxes doing the same.

"You hear me, kid?" Xristos asked.

Dustil didn't respond. At least, not to Xristos's question. "It's not here!" he exclaimed.

"What isn't?" Bastila asked.

"The artifact! They must've taken it!"

The whole group paused for a moment, and then Whillem called out, "Look, up there!" They all turned to see three or four of their attackers sprinting up the old pathway to the Academy. One of them had a distinct briefcase-like box under his arm.

"Oh, hell," Dustil said and took off running after them.

"Dustil, wait!" Caius called.

Dustil yelled over his shoulder, "No, we have to chase them!"

Caius sighed and then took up the run after the young Jedi. He yelled, "HK, come with me!"

"Statement: Gladly, master."


	8. Chapter 7

Author's Notes: Sorry about the delay to those of you reading this. Fall semester has begun and this is going to take a backseat to pretty much everything else in life. However, I have written quite a bit ahead, so you won't have to worry about regular updates. However, I'm going to be posting one every other week now, as opposed to once a week. It'll be easier that way. Maybe once I finish I'll go back to weekly, but for now this is how it's gotta be. So...yeah. Anyway, thanks for keeping up with this, your reviews are very welcome.

Another quick thing: It was mentioned that Xristos is similar to Jolee. That would be because he is similar, to be blunt. I briefly entertained using Jolee, but the two characters, though similar, differ philosophically, and I wanted to be able to just write whatever I wanted. With Jolee I would have had to work within the confines of his murky and somewhat inconsistent morality, and I didn't want to have to deal with that. So, I'll just say that they are different, but the similarities should be pretty obvious. Later on it'll get even more blatant. I hope that doesn't irritate anyone, but I didn't write Xristos simply to pad my OC numbers, I don't think that Jolee would have fit as well. Anyway, that's enough of that.

**Chapter 7 **

The trio ran quickly up the canyon in pursuit of the thieves. Caius tried to heal himself as he ran and lessen the strain the jogging was putting him through. Just moments ago his body had been deprived of air, it was still adapting to breathing again. Running was not the proper remedy. However, he was forced to keep going in pursuit of Dustil and the thieves. HK's metallic joints clanked with each impact of his feet as he jogged leisurely along next to his master.

They lost visibility of their enemies in the canyon, forcing them to follow their light tracks or sounds. Dustil was much faster than Caius and had therefore gone ahead. After what seemed like a mile, Caius rounded a corner and found Dustil standing still in front of a gaping hole in the canyon wall. HK stopped beside him.

"They went inside that cave," Dustil said ominously.

"Statement: Then let us go after them."

Caius sighed, "This is a dangerous cave…we have to be careful."

"We don't have a choice," Dustil resolved. The three then entered the black abyss.

* * *

"What _is _it?" Allie asked no one and everyone. She had hid in the ship during the fighting and only after dared to come outside. She was concerned to see if Caius was okay. And the others too, she supposed. There were bodies all over the place, but the survivors were only interested in one of them: the corpse of their assailant that Elliott killed. It was the only body of their enemy that they had, the only one any of them had seen up close.

"It's damn ugly, that's what it is," Elliott said dryly.

Sergeant Whillem came closer and knelt next to the contorted corpse. He and two other members of the excavation team were the only survivors of the initial crew. He began unwrapping the ornate head garb that the alien wore. Its black robe was strung together in a very complex way, making it difficult to detach parts of it. As they tried to dissect it they found underneath the cloth was a suit of strong yet flexible armor, just as dark in pigment as the robes. Its headdress was simpler, as it seemed to consist of a hood with a veil hanging down in front of it that allowed visibility only from the inside. Whillem cut through the fabric with his field knife and then tore the hood off.

Allie recoiled in horror. All the rest were shocked at its appearance as well, though they tried their best to shield it. Even Elliott twitched at the monster's profound hideousness.

It looked like it had once been human…or similar. Looking past the screaming agony of death on the monster's face, they could discern distinctly human qualities within it. Its nose was very man-like, as was its gaping mouth. The teeth were yellow and rotting from within. What sickened them most was the pale discoloring of the thing's skin. It was sickly white with blotches of purplish blue bruises all over it. Sometimes the skin folded up where there seemed to be large growths. There was a particularly large one on its right temple.

Allie had her hand over her mouth, she said, "Oh, please cover it up. I don't want to look at it anymore."

Whillem obliged.

Bastila still looked at the monster, even after it was re-covered. "You don't think," she said, and then looked at Xristos, "a Sith?"

He shrugged, "I suppose. That would explain why they're after the map."

"Sith? Map?" asked Whillem. "What does that mean? I thought command wasn't telling us the whole story when they sent us here—but this is huge. The Sith are dead, aren't they?"

"Correction," Elliott began, "this Sith is dead. The others ran off with your box."

"But Sith? How?" he asked.

"They're real Sith," Bastila answered, "not Revan's imitations. It's the…species."

"What are they doing here?"

Bastila exhaled, "I don't know. I would guess that it would have to depend on whether or not that artifact you found is a map of some sort. We thought it may have coordinates to some parts of the Sith Empire. Apparently we were right, as they seem to think it's important enough to come out of hiding in order to stop us from getting it. They were probably keeping tabs on the planet—or spying on us. Even worse, maybe their strong enough to come out of hiding and investigate one of their old worlds. Whatever the cause, once you found an artifact of theirs, they decided they needed it back."

"Come out of hiding?" the sergeant asked, still stupefied.

Xristos answered for Bastila, "They've been in exile for thousands of years. We don't know why, but they're in hiding. Korriban was, according to our…sources…an old Sith world. A real one, like this species here." He pointed at the dead thing. "Presumably there were some still hiding on the planet, observing us. Or maybe they were, as Bastila said, investigating. That explains how they'd know what we were doing."

"This is a little much," said Whillem.

Allie changed the direction of the conversation, "Shouldn't we be helping Caius and Dustil?" she asked.

"We can't risk them attacking again and getting the ship," Xristos said. "If they destroy the _Hawk_ then our mission would be the last of our worries."

"Still," added Bastila, "she's right. They might get ambushed. I'll go after them. The rest of you can protect the ship, right?"

Xristos looked around. He would have Whillem, two archeologists, a pistol-weilding drunkard, Allie, and a trashcan to defend the ship. "Hmm," he murmured, "I suppose we'll manage. Go make sure we get the artifact back."

* * *

The cave was dark and musty. Caius remembered having to slay dozens of those infernal bat creatures during his last visit, but he saw that their attackers had already gutted the caves of life. The monsters' bodies lay scattered throughout the cave.

HK used his various tracking instruments to follow the thieves, leading the way through the slimy cave. He brought them to the narrow land bridge that connected the back end of the cavern to the rest of it, a treacherously thin pass. Somehow, deep down, Caius knew that he would be led back here.

"Statement: We must cross the bridge," HK said plainly.

Caius did not speak, but the trio moved solemnly over the bridge. He held his breath as he tottered nervously over the vast expanse below him. Dustil did the same as he followed, but HK seemed to be unaffected.

As they made it to the other side, HK once again took the lead and took Caius right the to the very spot he was dreading.

"Statement: They went in here," HK said. The droid stopped in front of the small, but unnatural door that was crammed underneath tons of rock.

Caius gulped. Dustil began moving towards the tomb, but Caius stopped him. "Dustil," he said, "this place is not natural. It's filled with dark energy. You'll see things in there. Probably from your past, maybe some from your future. But whatever you see…it's not real. Don't listen to them."

"What?" Dustil asked nervously, "are there ghosts?"

"Yes, and they know you personally. But they're not _real_ Dustil. Do you understand? Don't let them tell you what to do."

"I…okay," the young man said nervously.

The Exile turned to his droid, said, "HK, you're going to have to be our eyes in there. If we start acting irrationally, stop us. If we are talking to things that aren't there, stop us. Okay? And keep an eye out for those things."

"Affirmative, master."

The group plunged into the tomb. Its walls were radically different from the cave they had been in previously. They were clean and smooth, as if permanently kept in pristine condition by the spirits in the place. There was a sort of purple radiance that would rise up occasionally from the ground, and all three would avoid stepping in it when they saw it. They slowly emerged from the tunnel into the main chamber of the tomb. It was barren, no ghosts, spirits or anything.

"Hmm, it wasn't this quiet last time," Caius thought aloud.

"Yeah," Dustil responded quietly. "Hey, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It sounds like…" Dustil turned and walked through one of the three doors on adjacent walls in the chamber. Caius didn't notice he was moving until it was too late.

He exclaimed, "Dustil, wait!"

But his cry went unheard as a large stone wall shut down in between Dustil and Caius, locking itself into place.

"Damn it, damn it!" Caius grunted. "HK, can you see if there's a way to open this thing?"

The droid paused for a second, then said, "Answer: Negative, master, there are no means by which we could bypass this door. Even explosives would not work."

"Dustil!" Caius yelled, "just follow the tunnel! Ignore the visions! Follow the tunnel and you'll be all right!"

He hoped the boy could hear him. He paced back and forth a few times, thinking, and then presently came back to his hunting mission. He said, "HK, activate thermal sensors and scan the area for any life forms."

The droid obeyed, said, "Result: Negative, master, though it appears that the hideous creatures with the artifact passed this direction." He pointed to the tunnel opposite where Dustil disappeared.

"Great, if I remember correctly, that way is a dead end. We'll have them trapped." He took a deep breath and collected himself, then went in. HK trotted along gleefully beside him, waiting for the chance to engage in combat. They maneuvered quickly through the tunnel, hanging a left, and then towards the dead end room—the door was shut. Caius was relieved that they hadn't been confronted with the visions, he only hoped Dustil was having the same success. They stopped, he said, "HK, what about this door?"

"Assessment: There is no practical way to open it, but enough force should blow it open. Let the record state that I find this method most practical."

"Do you have anything that could destroy it?"

"Answer: Master, I am offended you would even ask such a question. Now, duck."

Caius was stunned momentarily and then regained his composure and scuffled around the hall corner. HK joined him a second later and both braced for the impact. A large fireball blasted out backwards from where the door was and granite and cement sprayed against the surrounding walls, cracking the beautiful marble construction. "What was that? A permacrete detonator?"

"Answer: Yes."

"I see…well, here goes. HK, do that trick you were talking about."

"Glee: With pleasure, master."

The assassin droid activated his thermal vision, enabling him to see the body heat of any beings within the vicinity. Due to the massive explosion, visibility was practically nonexistent as ash, dirt, and rock hung in the thick cavern air. HK could see straight through the mess and focus on three heat signatures cowering inside the room.

He opened fire.

His aim was exact, and two of the creatures fell instantly. The third let out a piercing howl, much like the ear-shattering shriek made by the one Elliott killed, and leapt out of HK's line of sight. Caius sneaked a look around the corner, only to be greeted by an ion bolt. It flung straight at his head, and reflex saved his life. He jerked uncomfortably as the blast narrowly missed him. HK was not so lucky. The ion bolt smacked him right in the chest and sent him careening backwards into the fractured marble surface. Caius ignited his lightsaber and then jumped through the dirt air and into the sole room. He instantly saw two dead bodies, but saw no third.

The Force caused him to instinctively turn around, just in time to see a longsword slicing through the air towards him. He managed to barely parry the strike out of the way, the metal clanking and bouncing off of his blue saber. The Sith howled again and jumped. It cleared his head by a good three feet and landed behind him. There was something distinctly animalistic about its movements. Though it was tall and lanky, it had the agility of a monkey. And apparently the strength of a ronto. It struck again and beat Caius's parries backwards, endangering the Exile as his lighstaber was almost whacked into him as he held off the enemy's furious attacks.

Caius was one of the most accomplished duelists of the Order, at least he had been when he was a Jedi. But he had always fought differently. Though he was a guardian, he did not focus on brute strength or power. He favored speed and agility and quick strikes. As such, he was generally on the defensive. His years in exile had only served to sharpen his skills. Normally he could best any swordsman the galaxy had to offer, but this thing was different. It was like fighting a beast; he couldn't anticipate its movements. Normally, with an animal, it is not so difficult because it's on the defense and it doesn't have a sword. The behavior of this creature was so unique and wild Caius had a hard time dueling it. For about a minute and a half they twirled around each other, trying to gain the upper edge. Mostly there were feints and dodges, very few real attacks. There would be long moments of nothing, the only noise was heavy breathing and the shrieking of the Sith. But eventually Caius forced it into a mistake. It swung too wide and left itself open. He didn't have the opportunity to strike it with his saber, but he was able to smash it upside the head with his elbow. Its head jerked backwards, the hood falling down farther over its face. As it was stunned, Caius summoned the Force and threw it backwards, pinning it against the wall.

Much to his surprise, the creature had held on to its sword through all of this. As it smacked against the wall, it somehow found the strength to throw the blade at him. Caius almost didn't see it, but at the last moment was able to bat the javelin away from him. It clanked as it struck concrete. The creature, freed from Caius's Force power as it distracted him with the sword, yelled and then pulled out a small revolving pistol, seemingly of primitive technology. Caius remembered what Xristos said about blocking the bullets and summoned a surge of energy. He flew at the attacker with blinding speed. It fired, but earlier than it had intended to, and its shot went wide. The gun made a tremendous noise when it shot, echoing throughout the tomb. Its echo was followed by a piercing wail as Caius lopped the arm off of the creature and then silenced it by removing its head.

He deactivated his lightsaber. The Exile put his hands on his knees and gasped, exhausted.

"HK?" he called.

"Answer: Master," said the droid with what seemed like pain, "I am stuck."

Caius walked slowly outside of the room to see HK lying on the ground, trying to pull himself up but unable to do so.

"Statement: That wretched creature's ion bolt paralyzed my right arm, I cannot get up."

The Exile braced himself and then tried to pull the droid off of the ground. The machine was incredibly heavy, a completely solid matting of circuits and wires and metal. He felt the veins pulsing through his neck as he lifted, but eventually he pulled the droid just enough off the rubble in order for him to get his feet again.

"Plea: Master, I beg you not to mention this to T3. Oh, the humiliation of having a meatbag zap my arm…and then having a meatbag help me up! I do not know if my behavior core could handle the embarrassment."

"Don't worry about it HK, I never told T3 about that incident with the gizka either."

"Statement: Master, remind me to remind you to wipe my memory of that."

"I wish I could wipe _my_ memory of that…" Caius tried to suppress the memory, said, "Whatever, we need to find that map those things stole."

He went back into the dueling room, scouring the wreckage for the artifact. He turned over rocks with his foot and peered into the cracks and shattered walls, but to no avail. He was starting to feel that nervous cold feeling crawl up his spine before HK spoke.

"Statement: I believe I found it, master." With his good arm, HK lifted up the small rectangular box and held it out to Caius.

"Great, now let's get the hell out of here."

He quickly backtracked out of the dead end hallway towards the cave entrance. The way in was sealed, so they'd have to traverse through the tomb and get out the back way. He hoped Dustil would be able to make it there and meet them. He wasn't sure what he'd do if they couldn't find him.

He made a right and started down the middle passageway from the main corridor. HK clanked along behind him, his right arm hanging limply at his side, sparks ejecting from the joint not infrequently. The droid still gripped a heavy blaster in his left hand, eager for more combat. His assault rifle had to be slung over his shoulder, useless.

As they moved slowly through the corridor Caius felt his body grow more sluggish. His vision blurred and he strained to see clearly. He gripped the box under his arm tightly as he felt a strange dizzying sensation. His vision continued warping. He tried to focus on the walls, something concrete to avoid this all too familiar feeling, but they shifted as well. Slowly the marble surfaces metamorphosed into crawling, living things. Their color darkened, molting from serene gray and tan to a slimy, jungle green. Vines slithered out of the jungle walls—great plants slapping at him and threatening to entangle him. He grew afraid.

"HK," he called, "HK, what do you see?"

"Answer: My photoreceptors are reading no disturbances in this hall or the next. This hall is as empty as it is dead."

Just as he had thought, the droid was immune. The lush forest grew thicker, more confusing, more disgusting. Vivid memories were coming back.

"HK, you have to be my eyes. The visions…they're coming back. Go in front of me and don't stop unless I do. If I do stop, grab me and keep me going. Even if it looks like I'm talking to someone."

"Compliant: Yes, master."

The droid had no concept of what was afflicting his master. To him, he was merely taking the lead because his meatbag master was suffering some sort of meatbag brain disease. Or maybe he was overreacting to the situation as meatbags often tended to do.

Caius, however, was sinking slowly into the dismal fantasy world of his past. The jungle swarmed over the tunnel and completely eradicated any structure at all. It may as well have been the real forest. He trudged behind HK, stepping over broken tree trunks and massive mud puddles, his robes getting soiled.

The visions grew more intimate and more terrifying. Now he was seeing the people, the memories of the war. _Always the war_, he thought. He tried to concentrate on the hulking orange machine in front of him, but it was getting harder. He wanted to look at the things around him. There were people he had known, faces he would recognize. But he _had_ to ignore them. If he looked, he'd fall deeper into the illusion. He kept going, fighting the urge. But eventually he couldn't ignore them any longer. He slipped, fell down into the mud. As he looked up he didn't see the droid. A cold, sickly hand stretching out in front of him obstructed his vision. It shook with tension as he stared at it. Its flesh was white, covered with mud. He followed the hand to the arm and to the body. He remembered this. There, lying in the mud, was a half-gone soldier. He was still alive, somehow clinging to miserable existence despite missing both legs. The eyes were delirious and disoriented, looking at Caius but not quite at him. As if they were looking through him or behind him. The hand still quivered.

The dying man's voice could be heard, faintly pleading, "General…"

Caius shook his head and grunted, trying to shut out the memories. He jumped forward several yards, away from the ghost soldier. Frantically he searched the forest for his orange guide. He could not see him.

"HK…?"

* * *

Dustil was under siege by emotional trauma. Unleashed, before his very eyes, were all the most painful, pivotal memories of his life.

His father left for the war. Telos was bombed. He was separated from his mother. He was found by the Sith. He shifted perspectives and relived all those terrifying moments. He inhabited the body of a young boy again, then he was a teenager again. He was a Sith again.

The dark side inside him began to rage. It stormed in a violent maelstrom of blackness within his soul. He could see himself, his vision detached from his body. His skin was turning pale, skin was dying and falling off, his eyes were discoloring. He looked on himself with horror. Then he heard a familiar voice.

"Dustil?" said a sweet soprano behind him. "Is that you?"

He wheeled around, his head dizzying. "Selene?"

There was the adorable girl with the blonde hair and the dark brown eyes, the one that urged him to join the Sith that found him after scorching his planet.

"Selene, I…no—no I can't. Get away from me. Get away, this isn't real, get away!"

"Dustil, what's wrong with you? I'm right here. Or don't you miss me?"

"Of course I do—I mean, leave me alone!" He tried to turn and run, but as he wheeled around Selene was suddenly in front of him again.

"I don't think you do." Her expression changed, disgust showing through her beautiful face. "You always did straddle the fence. You said you'd miss me, you said a lot of things to me. But I didn't believe most of them. I mean, you never meant most of what you said."

"That's…not true," he said, desperately trying to break free of her hold.

She smirked, though it was not a pleasant one, more like she was barely tolerating him. "What about dedicating your life to the Sith? You promised me that, remember?"

"Things…changed."

"No," she said, laughing at his expense, "no they didn't. You never were man enough. You just talked the talk. You couldn't follow through. You were weak. The Sith are better off without you."

"No! I mean—yes, they're better. Wait…that's not what I mean!" He yelled something. He wasn't sure what it was or who he was yelling at. He just had to scream.

She shook her head, "See? You are weak. _You _don't even know what you believe."

"That's…not true. I am…a Jedi."

"No. You are damned."

"Stop!" he pleaded. "Let me go!" He fell to his knees. He shut his eyes tight, trying to keep her out of his sight, but still he could hear her.

"I don't hold you. You imprison yourself." She sighed, "I can't believe I tried to bring a worthless cur such as you into the Sith. Look at you. You are pathetic. You are a child."

He just mumbled to himself, trying not to listen, falling deeper into his delusions.

"And I never lov-" her voice suddenly dissolved mid-sentence. It transformed from a natural, sugary soprano to a smooth accented pitch he vaguely recognized. "Dustil? Dustil!"

He still crouched on the floor, his head swimming from the relentless confrontations.

"Dustil! Come on, Dustil! Get up!" The voice came closer. He murmured gibberish to the newcomer, still keeping his eyes shut tight. He feared another fantasy.

But this one was real. His rescuer grabbed him by the arm and lifted him onto his feet. "Dustil!" the attractive voice raised into a sharp yell. "Get a hold of yourself!"

The young man groggily opened his eyes and looked up through a film of water into the distorted image of Bastila Shan. She was holding him up by his shoulders, but his body was almost limp. He just wanted to lie down and sleep, mental exhaustion eating away at him.

"Dustil, you've got to work _with_ me if you ever want to get out of here," she said, trying to urge him back into his senses.

He nodded wearily, trying to blink his eyes into focus. Bastila turned him around and put her arm gently around his neck and onto his opposite shoulder. Her touch was comforting to him, he felt safer. Slowly he was coming back to reality.

"Come on, we've got to get out of here. Walk _with_ me," she begged of him.

She led him along, step by step, until they began moving at a more brisk pace. Dustil was still stuttering incoherent things, but Bastila was not distracted by it. She was being confronted by her own inner demons. But she was defeating them.

Vrook did not stop her. Neither did her mother.

Malak could not dissuade her from her objective. She had steeled her already incredible resolve and simply willed the illusions away from her. They faded as she hurried past them.

But even she had her limitations. She valiantly fought onwards, dragging an incoherent Dustil along with her. But she was having a harder time ignoring the visions, slowing her pace. She looked at the illusions briefly, then tried to banish them, but to no avail. This one was persistent.

It was Revan.

All around her a familiar battle raged. There were merely two, dancing circles around her and Dustil. She was the epicenter of this epic duel, one she had seen before. It was good versus evil, light versus dark, and a battle of redemption. Out of the corner of her eye she saw herself wielding her red double lightsaber. Her specter angrily flung the destructive weapon at her assailant. She was so scarred by the incident that she had sworn off the double blades forever. She hoped the gesture would allow her to begin anew.

Bastila looked at him. It had been years since she had seen him, but she remembered exactly what he looked like. Waging war against her dark spirit was the Prodigal Knight. He was focused, intense, and yet…serene. His face was calm and placid as hers was violent and hateful. His brown eyes held no contempt for her. The duel continued about them as Bastila vainly tried to find the exit from the tomb. She caught a glimpse of Revan again. He wasn't even breaking a sweat as he fought. Was this what really happened, or was it the ghost? She couldn't remember. But she marveled at how his scruffy brown hair did not moisten with perspiration. He was the picture of…peace.

She tried to look away, thought to herself: _There is no emotion_,

Then an epiphany.

There _is _emotion.

This scene, being replayed again before her eyes had held special significance to her. It was one of the most traumatic experiences of her life, but it had changed. It meant something else to her now. It had led directly to the most rapturous and joyful experience of her life. It started right there, on top of that unknown temple on an unknown world. She realized during that fight, though she did not admit it until later, that she loved Revan. He came to save her, all by himself, risking his own life. For her.

And she realized _he_ loved _her_.

These visions that were trying to torture her had their fortunes reversed. They no longer humiliated her. She embraced them. Her pace quickened, she hugged Dustil closer to herself, his head dangling limply. A smile crept subconsciously across her lips as she looked straight at the apparitions.

"There _is_ emotion," she said to them, "and peace."

The phantoms locked blades and then simultaneously froze. In an instant they had faded away, never to be seen again. In the place they had occupied a door was now fully visible.

"We're going to make it, Dustil," she said, now brimming with optimism. All of the visions had vanished, she saw only the flat marble walls of the dead tomb. She pushed the door open and found a large sarcophagus that had been looted. She reached out with the Force and felt the light of the external world pouring through one of the small openings in the room. She rubbed Dustil's shoulder as she led him outside, back into the normal cave. She ducked her head as they emerged from the dark tomb, and set Dustil down gently on the ground.

Now out of the tomb he was regaining his senses. He asked, "Bastila? What are you…where am I?"

She just said simply, "We made it."

* * *

Caius was not so lucky. He was lost in the dense jungle of Dxun and unable to find his guide.

"HK?" he called out repeatedly, distraught and frightened. He stumbled through the muck of the filthy planet. He fell down and landed face first in the slop. Suddenly his surroundings shifted, the dream continuing. The streaking comet of the Republic ship sailed over him, spraying its fire through the sky and onto the ground. Again, that unforgettable thud of it smacking into the ground reverberated throughout his skull.

As he tried to raise himself out of the mud he heard the soldiers around him stirring up a huge commotion over the crashed vessel. They ran around him quickly, trying to reach the crashed ship.

Caius slowly stood up, groggy, but awake. He began struggling through the slosh and dirt the same direction everyone else was going.

After a few minutes of toiling he found himself in the presence of a younger officer. A captain. Caius asked, "Captain, where did the ship crash?"

"General, sir, it's right nearby. Just fifty yards off, right over there." He pointed, "We have to clear it out of the way. Fortunately, none of our men were hurt. And we don't have to worry about the forest catching fire—this place is wetter than Manaan."

"Good work," Caius said to him automatically.

"Uh, one more thing, sir."

Caius fell into a momentary stupor and then shook himself out of it, said, "What is it, captain?"

"The pilot…he's still _alive_."

Before Caius could ask how, his dream was suddenly interrupted. There was an explosion and the sound of gunfire. He did not remember this from that night. He was being yanked back into the world of reality. Several more blaster shots rang out, and there was an otherworldly scream and then silence. The noise was piercing, and though the forest was still there, it was becoming more insubstantial as Caius was reawakening.

The silence was broken by a mechanical tone, "Statement: Rot in hell, meatbag."

The Exile then saw his assassin droid. He was standing over the dead body of another of those infernal creatures, his pistol still smoking.

"HK!" Caius called out. He was at the same time overjoyed and angry at the droid. "Where the hell did you go?"

The forest was swimming in the air. "Query: What do you mean 'where did I go'? Do your photoreceptors fail you, master?"

"What? You ran off and left me behind!"

"Statement: No master, I followed your orders to the letter. You were behind me the whole time. You do not remember this?"

Caius was so confused he did not even want to begin sorting out what had happened. "HK," he said drearily, "just get me out of here."

"Statement: Yes, master. By my calculations, we should be nearing the exit."

Caius followed the droid and tried harder to focus than he had ever in his entire life. He concentrated so hard on the orange machine he thought his brain was going to be permanently damaged. But slowly, ever so slowly, HK followed through.

They found themselves in the sarcophagus room where he had faced the apparition of Revan oh so long ago. In a matter of moments, HK led him outside.

"Exclamation: Jedi Bastila, Dustil! How did you get here?"

Dustil looked up at Caius with blood red eyes, mortified seemingly beyond expression but regaining his hold on reality. Caius similarly felt better as he had escaped from the tomb. It was like emerging from being underwater and drawing breath again. It was liberating, but so terribly tiring.

Bastila, though, seemed to be in better shape.

"How did you find us?" Caius asked.

"I don't think I could explain it. There were…supernatural forces at work."

Caius sighed and sat down, said, "Yeah, supernatural. That tomb is a living hell. That's the extent of that."

Bastila was content to say nothing.

Caius suddenly sprung upwards. His head experienced a sharp pain from rising so fast. He grimaced, put his hand on his forehead, and yelled, "Damn it, damn it! Where's the artifact? If I left it inside that bloody tomb I'm going to—"

"Interjection: Master, I have it right here. You dropped it on the ground so I picked it up." The droid scanned all three of them with its red "eyes." "Query: What in the _hell_ is wrong with all of you?"

"HK, you're lucky you're a droid," said the Exile.

"Statement: This I know."

Caius exhaled deeply and then motioned for Dustil to get up. He said, "Come on, let's get out of here."

* * *

It took them some time to make it back to the ravaged campsite in the valley. They moved very slowly, but each of them seemed to have a newfound appreciation for life. Except the droid.

As they reached the camp, they found arather odd picture. Amid all the overturned boxes and crates and torn tents, no one was there.

They all looked around, scanning the environment, until Bastila saw Xristos sitting at the foot of the _Ebon Hawk's _loading ramp on a rock. None of the rest of their crew was there. As they drew closer Caius noticed that the old man had his lightsaber in his hand, though it was off. At his feet was another of their mysterious attackers, cleaved in half at the waist.

"Xristos!" Bastila called out, "what happened?"

The old man didn't turn to look at them. "They attacked again. Not as many." He then sighed and met their gaze. "The sergeant's dead. And both of the scientists."

Caius felt his head instantly begin to perspire. "What about Allie?" He didn't consider his pilot, mostly because he didn't like him.

"And Elliott?" Dustil added for him.

"They're okay. Allie was here when it happened, but she's safe on the ship now. Elliott has the _Hawk _primed and ready to take off immediately. We were simply waiting for you to return. Kept us worried. We can't trifle with these Sith."

"Sith?" Caius and Dustil asked simultaneously. They looked at each other awkwardly and then Caius continued, "Is that what these are?"

"As far as we can tell," the old man answered.

Caius looked down at the halved corpse with new interest, but didn't want to examine it due to revulsion of the thing.

"Command: Please tell me T3 is dead," HK ordered with intimidation.

Xristos's countenance betrayed confusion for a moment, he said, "No…the droid is okay too. _Our _crew is fine. But the others were not so lucky."

"This planet is a nightmare," Caius said, "let's just get off of it."

They all agreed and made their way up into the freighter. Elliott immediately launched her and took them off of the desolate world. As they were lifting off Xristos said, "I'm afraid if we're going to the Sith Empire…we're going to find a lot of places like this. Perhaps worse."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Caius responded. "For now I'm just going to enjoy being none of those places."


	9. Chapter 8

Author's Notes: Bad timing. There seem to be about 6035 Kotor III stories all buzzing about as of now. It's enough to get lost in the scuffle-I certainly can't keep track of them. But whatever, here's another update. Warning: excessive technobabbling.

**Chapter Eight**

The _Hawk_ floated slowly in orbit around Korriban. The engines were shut down in order to conserve fuel as the crew tried to discern the next step in their quest. All of this hinged on Allie's ability to coax the navicomputer into cooperating with them.

The crew had assembled in the control room and watched as the female technician began her mission to trick the thing into bypassing the voicelock. She took the small rusted case and set it next to the obstinate computer. She wasn't sure how to open it, and frustrated herself by feeling the sides for a switch or lock of some sort.

"I don't know what to do with this," she admitted. "If it's a map, shouldn't it be more…map-like?"

Xristos was the first to suggest a method to open it, he said, "If this thing is an ancient Sith artifact, it is probably fused with the Force. It'd take a Sith—or, hopefully, a Jedi—to open it."

"Well, then I'm going to need one of you to help," she said.

They looked amongst themselves, unwilling to help. It wasn't that they didn't want to aid Allie; it was just that they did not want to be so close to an object of the Dark Side like it if they could avoid it. After a few moments, however, Caius volunteered. He had already carried the thing, and he was more immune to the Dark side than the others. He was so profoundly neutral in his alignment that he could almost be unaffected by it—a very unique ability. Of course, it came with the horrid price of having his soul ripped from his body and then reinserted piece by piece over the last year. The only benefit was that the Dark side had no hold on him. Strangely, however, the Light still did—probably because that was his ally before losing the Force.

He stepped forward and said, "I'll do it."

Allie simply sat on the ground, kneeling next to the artifact. Caius strode over to her and she looked up at him like the way a small child looks up to a parent when they need help. Dirt and grease was smeared all over her face. He found her expression somewhat amusing, especially considering she knew infinitely more about the technological aspect of things than he ever could hope to. In fact, she was probably smarter than him in the general sense. He shuddered, hating admitting inferiority as much as anyone else, but shoving the thoughts aside for the time being.

"All right, let's see," he said.

"What are you going to do?" Elliott asked, "say the magic word?"

"Or perhaps break it over your head," said the Exile.

Elliott rolled his eyes, "_Good one_."

Caius knelt next to Allie and put his hands on both sides of the rusted case. He stuck his index fingers out to make contact with it and closed his eyes. He funneled the Force through himself, searching for a way to activate the ancient icon. He traced the sides of the box and inadvertently caught Allie's hand and, unknowingly, moved it underneath his. She pulled it backwards quickly and suppressed a blush, but no one noticed as they watched Caius intently.

He poured the Force into the thing like water through a sieve, but could not discern any result. "Is anything happening?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Not that I can see," said Bastila.

Caius sighed and opened his eyes. Nothing had happened. "Well, that's just great. What do we do with this now?" He set his palm on the top of the enclosed case, allowing it rest there as he thought. Suddenly, the top half of the rectangle shifted. With a click it twisted and rotated ninety degrees so that it was perpendicular to the bottom half. Caius pulled his hand back in surprise.

"What did you do?" Allie asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, it's opened," said Dustil, "look inside it."

Inside shimmered a very bright blue coating. There seemed to be a kind of seeping fog that dripped out as Caius pulled the top half of the box off. There was a very strange object inside of the box. It seemed to be a perfectly pure, black disk, just a few centimeters thick. Caius picked it up gently and looked on both sides of it. "Can we generate a map from this?"

As if it obeyed him, the disk leveled itself out and projected a mini-map of the galaxy through the hole in its center.

"Look there," Bastila said, "All of the unknown regions are charted! This is incredible. There's hyperspace routes in there that we never knew existed." She stared at it in awe and then her face shifted into a concerned frown. "It disturbs me that all that is out there and we didn't know about it. I am curious, though, how accurate do you think it is? How long has this map been on Korriban?"

"Probably not long," said Xristos. "The Sith were there to take an interest in it, and that planet could very well have been in their hands as early as a century ago."

"How are we going to activate the navicomputer with this?" Caius asked, shifting gears.

Allie held her hand out, awaiting the disk, she said, "Leave that to me."

* * *

There was some difficulty in rigging the disk to connect to the navicomputer. Considering that the technology was only loosely similar did not help. It was a testament to Allie's incredible technical skill that she was able to rig any sort of connection at all. Now everything hinged on her hope that an external stimulus would indeed bypass the navicomputer voice lock and allow them access to the ship's logs from Revan's tenure.

She craned her neck to look behind the waterfall of wires that she had pulled out of the back of the computer. She held her hand out and asked no one in particular, "Someone give me a male-to-male video input cable."

Dustil rummaged through the pile and then handed her one. Elliott felt it necessary to add a sarcastic comment and said, "Eh, it's a gay computer."

Everyone in the room immediately stopped and looked at him.

"Elliott," Caius began, "why are you such an idiot?"

Elliott looked straight back at Caius, said unflinchingly, "Why is your head so bald?"

Caius immediately felt the top of his head. It was a reflex, of course he knew his head was bald. But it wasn't natural, he had shaved it. However…he hadn't had a haircut in a while… "Whatever, you have the humor of a child," he responded.

"At least I've got humor, fearless leader!" Elliott fired back. Caius could say nothing and turned back to help Allie. Satisfied in his victory, Elliott left the room and headed back to the cockpit.

Allie broke the awkward silence with an exclamation of delight from behind the computer. "I think I got it!" she said. She rolled backwards and stood on her knees in front of the machine. "Come on," she said, willing it to work.

The high resolution screen of the navicomputer brightened up promisingly, a pleasant blue screen. They were not out of the words yet. It took the thing several moments to initialize before there was a familiar whoosh of tingling noises that said it was starting all right. It was, sadly, always in danger of crashing.

"Damn Vista Edition," stated Caius.

Allie shook her head, but the next voice was not hers, it belonged to the machine. "Greetings," it spoke in a monotone female voice. "Account verified: Revan. Please authenticate."

Allie flipped reached around the back of the console and flipped a switch. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, awaiting the result. "Access…" the voice began… "granted." Before the crew could shout in celebration Allie spun around and held her finger up to her mouth, signaling them to be quiet.

"Initiate voice recognition," said the computer.

Allie motioned quickly for T3 to attach to the machine. The droid complied and whistled to itself nonchalantly as it manipulated the computer. Everyone else held their breath, hoping that the droid could convince the machine that it was Revan. Or sufficiently Revan for it to open up its docking logs.

T3 then chose one of the random bits of Revan's voice that he had stored up over the years and played it. The excerpt that the droid randomly selected shocked everyone.

"Thursday, log from…wherever" said what everyone knew instantly to be the infamous Prodigal Knight. Bastila closed her eyes as his familiar voice echoed throughout the ship. It was gravelly and low, instantly recognizable. In this recording he seemed to be out of breath, not from physical activity, but just exhaustion. The rest of the crew just listened as the voice spoke out of the speakers in the comm. room. "The rest of them are dead. The jig is up. I'm not sure what this place is, T3, but I'm going to have to leave you." His voice was hushed, "Stick with the _Hawk_, take her back into known space. Severus knows we're here now, and I'm going to have to adopt a different approach if we're going to prevent him from invading. As of now, I don't know if he's the Sith Lord or merely an apprentice, and I don't care to know. Either way, T3, this is goodbye. You've been a loyal droid and I—" the transmission cut out abruptly.

Everyone stood still in complete shock. No one had been expecting to be confronted with Revan's voice, especially such a dark and enigmatic transmission. Everyone was so preoccupied with it that they didn't notice that the computer bought it hook, line, and sinker. It then started pulling up all the confidential files that Revan had locked away within its memory core.

The crew continued wallowing in stunned silence. Only Allie eventually spoke, saying, "It's all right to talk now…it worked."

"I…didn't expect that," Bastila said forlornly. "I wish I could've prepared myself."

"It was weird," Caius agreed, "I haven't heard that voice in…such a long time."

Xristos remained the most levelheaded and sought to restore order. He looked at it from a logical perspective, said, "I, for one, am glad we heard that. It casts considerable light on Revan's motives. At least we now know what we're getting into."

Caius turned accusingly to T3, asked, "Why didn't you tell us you had that recording? What else do you have in there?"

T3 beeped obstinately.

"What'd he say?" asked Dustil.

Caius sighed and translated: "He said that we never asked. He also says that it's irrelevant, as this is the only bit of recording he has from the Unknown Regions. Apparently something went awry when Revan wiped his memory and it left this bit intact."

Bastila exhaled deeply and closed her eyes, "Well, I suppose this means we can figure out the next step in our quest."

"Right," said Allie. "T3, can you identify where it was that the _Ebon Hawk _was last within Sith space?"

"Dwoo," assented the droid. After a moment of calculation, the navicomputer began operating. The much larger screen on the main wall then brightened and lit up with the map of the Sith Empire. The map rotated and shifted within the screen, eventually zooming in on a small planet near the border of Republic space.

Allie looked at the readings on the little screen, said, "It can't read any of the language, but the numbers are universal. We can upload the coordinates and the _Hawk_ can make a safe journey there."

Caius looked at Bastila, "What do you say?" he asked her. "Should we jump straight there? We might want to make one last stop on Coruscant and gather any last supplies we might need." He then looked at their tech, said, "And I suppose Allie will want to take off and collect her payment."

Allie looked rather surprised, stuttered, "Oh, well, I don't know…" and then trailed off.

Elliott then entered the comm. room again, said, "Count me in for getting supplies. If we're going to be cavorting around the unknown worlds as long as I think, we're going to need to get some stiff alcohol."

"No," said everyone in unison.

Seeing he was outnumbered, Elliott surrendered but said, "Then I'm going to need a _lot_ of cigarettes."

"That we can do," Caius said amicably, hoping to prevent war.

"Coruscant it is, then," said Bastila. "Caius, come with me so we can let Carth know what we've found and that we're coming back."

"Sure thing."

And with that, they all filed out of the room, leaving Allie alone with all her tools and messy wires. She looked around helplessly, said to T3, "Well, I don't suppose you'll help me clean up, will you?"

* * *

Bastila and Caius stood in front of glowing figure of Carth Onasi once again. He towered over them on the pedestal as they spoke. Bastila did most of the talking, and informed the Admiral of the map and what had happened on Korriban. She told him of the attacks and the deaths of the Republic team, but she glossed over the details of the Dream Tomb. The details were of a very clandestine nature, but Bastila ensured that they were communicating in an encrypted network and had T3 further codify the broadcast so that no one could accidentally find it.

"Well, Bastila," he said, "I'm disturbed about what you have to say about these Sith. They seem to know a lot about us, and they seem to be very formidable—at least in personal combat."

Caius then informed him of his duel with the one in the cave, he said, "It is difficult to fight even one of them. As far as I can tell the ones we encountered weren't Force sensitive, but they are still as much as a Jedi can handle. They fight wildly, not unlike a cornered animal. But they're far superior considering they have weapons and tactical knowledge. I was hoping that the ones we encountered would be some sort of specialized infiltration group or something. If they're all as strong as those…it's going to be hard."

"I understand, Caius," said Carth, "but there isn't any information I can provide you. For now, we'll operate under the assumption that these creatures are very physically adept, but not as much technologically."

"Is there any intel at all on the planet we informed you about?" Bastila asked, referring to the one that revealed itself as one of Revan's last known appearances.

"None whatsoever," the Admiral said, "we know just as much as you. However, the general geography of the planet can be determined at least. I'll have our scientists look at it and tell you what you can expect."

Caius twisted his mouth, "Thanks, I'm sure it'll help to know if rain's in the forecast."

"I'm going to take that as a joke," Carth said solemnly. His face then twitched slightly and revealed a small smile as he said, "For the record it wasn't very funny."

"Hmm, thanks for the evaluation," the Exile responded.

"Well, if that's it," Bastila tried to steer the conversation, "then we'll be returning shortly, Carth. We'll need to stock up on fuel and perhaps add on some auxiliary fuel tanks considering how long this journey might take. We'll also need more range weapons and stores of food."

"Don't worry," Carth said, "I'll take care of it. I'll also let Nantaris know you're coming."

"Thank you," she said.

"All right, Onasi out." The connection then ceased and Carth's image sucked down into the console and disappeared.

Bastila turned one of the knobs and deactivated the hologram. She turned around to find Caius was still standing right behind her—almost too close.

Her voice squeaked somewhat embarrassingly as she asked, "Can I help you?"

"You seem to be…in a much lighter mood," he said bluntly.

"Oh, I see," she said, "you think I'm less uptight than before."

"Honestly, yes. That's exactly what I think."

Bastila frowned. She didn't want him to confirm that, but of course it was true.

"Got everything figured out?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, and said, "It's none of your business. And even if it was I wouldn't tell you. Just be glad to know that I'm making progress."

"All right," he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "forget I asked."

"I certainly will," she said flatly and then turned to walk away.

Caius shook his head. What was he _doing_ with people like this?

* * *

The Exile wandered through the ship's halls on the way towards the starboard side when he met Allie, coming from the opposite direction. She seemed to be flustered and somewhat out of breath.

"Uh, are you all right?" Caius asked.

She tilted her head a little bit and said, "I'm fine. It sure would have been nice for someone to help me clean up that mess, though."

Caius immediately felt somewhat guilty. "Oh," he said, "sorry about that." In an attempt to lighten the mood, he said, "Well, you won't have to worry about dealing with us anymore. You can leave whenever you want."

Allie was a little hurt by this comment, and Caius wished he could retract it right as he had said it, as it had sounded unnecessarily dismissive.

Quickly the Exile put an addendum on the comment, said, "I mean…you don't have to stay on anymore. It is rather dangerous…it would be…safer, I mean."

"I understand," she answered rather coolly.

Caius tried to change the subject a bit, asked, "You're okay though, right? Nothing happened to you on Korriban?"

"No," she said honestly, "like I said, I'm fine. You don't have to worry."

Caius backed up a bit, said, "That's good, then. I told you—nothing bad will happen to you as long as you're here."

Allie's countenance lightened and she smiled slightly, said, "Thanks, Caius." With that she slipped past him and continued the opposite way.

As she left, Caius thought to himself, _That was an awkward conversation_. He felt a little uneasy talking to her, but he didn't really know why. But for some reason the thoughts in his mind could never translate, and he would say odd things. Articularity was not necessarily his strong point. Normally he didn't care, but with her…he had this peculiar nagging feeling that he did not want to make a bad impression—and for all his efforts he could not figure out what it was or how to get rid of it. He could only ignore it.

Dustil was not comfortable. His mind had been racing a thousand miles an hour after his confrontation in the cave with Selene, and he was on the edge of a traumatic identity crisis. Her words, even if they weren't actually real, had scared the living hell out of him. He wasn't exactly sure what to think of himself anymore. He had spent several hours trying to work things out for himself, within the confines of his own mind, but to no avail. As anyone who has experienced such a thing can attest, it is not possible to work it out alone. He decided he needed help.

"Hey, old man," he said as he accosted Xristos near the medical room. "I need to talk to you."

Xristos cocked his head a bit, but his weathered face then morphed into a warm, grandfatherly smile. He said, "Certainly, I'll do my best to listen. What's on your mind?"

"Not here," Dustil said, "let's go into the dorms—there's no one there."

"Hmm, private conversation? All right."

Xristos waited until Dustil was satisfied that no one would overhear him and then sat down on his bunk, awaiting a speech.

Dustil sighed and then said, "I don't even really know how to describe this. I just feel…nervous. Intimidated. And I have this morbid fear of the unknown now. I just, I want to be sure, you know? I can't just go on in blissful ignorance thinking that I'm something I'm not. I just—"

"Whoa," Xristos held his hand up, "_slow_ down, kid. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I told you, I don't know how to describe it."

"You do, you just haven't thought of it that way. Just say _exactly_ what you mean and don't worry about manipulating words."

Dustil exhaled. "All right," he said, "do you know what was in that cave?"

Xristos shook his head.

"No. All right, there were ghosts. Phantoms. People from my past. Caius and Bastila saw them too. I'm afraid because of what one of them said to me."

"Which was?"

The young man closed his eyes and breathed deeply before saying it, as though it were a great burden. "She told me I wasn't really a Jedi."

"That's interesting, because you clearly are. You're in the Order and you carry a lightsaber. Surely that's not what's bothering you?"

"Those are just physical symbols," Dustil said. "She meant what I really am. _Really_. Like, deep down. That kind of crap."

Of course Xristos knew that's what Dustil meant. But the fact that he knew the problem himself was good progress. He was having an identity crisis. "Okay," he said, "so you're not sure you're really measuring up the Jedi ideal—or standard?"

"I guess. I mean, I don't know if you can understand this—but I _was_ a Sith once. I was one. And now I'm a Jedi. How do I know what I really am?"

"And what are you afraid of?"

"I don't know—the uncertainty, I guess. I don't want to die and get a nasty surprise. Revan told me once of a ghost he met on Korriban. It was Ajunta Pall or something. But the thing was a fallen Sith that was lamenting its horrible eternity. I don't want to end up like that."

"Well, why would you end up like that?"

Dustil opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. He put his hand on his chin and thought about it. He said, "I don't know."

"I understand what you're talking about now, I think," Xristos said. "This is fear of the unknown, which is perfectly rational and understandable. _Everyone _has it. It's death, and it's unknown. No matter what it's always going to be scary."

"But what about that? I don't fear death as much as mistake. I don't want to end up like Pall."

Xristos leaned backwards against the wall on his bunk. Dustil was sitting on the ground, as though he were a student or something. The old man didn't like the position because it made him feel like a wise old teacher pontificating, but he had to assume the role. He said, "But Pall was a Sith, surely you won't end up like him."

"But that's exactly what I'm talking about!" Dustil exclaimed. "I don't know what I am now. I've been _both_! I've been a Jedi and a Sith. Is that even possible? It's warping my mind, I just don't know where I fit in. I'm afraid I may have damned myself."

"Now stop and listen to what you're saying, my boy. Do you understand the words coming out of your mouth? You're condemning yourself for turning _from_ the dark side. That seems silly to me, does it to you?"

"I don't know," he said. "I just wish I were more certain."

"Look," Xristos said paternally. He leaned in closer and said, "You'll never find certainty the way you're looking for it. Nothing you can _do_ will ever satisfy your concern or justify any certainty." He could see Dustil was frowning, not liking the old man's philosophy. However, the aged Jedi then thought of a new way to phrase what he thought. He asked, "Dustil, which one do you think you are?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm a Jedi, but how can I prove that to myself? I was just as certain that I was a Sith then as a Jedi now. This is what is so confusing!"

"Very well," Xristos said, "which one do you _want_ to be?"

Dustil cocked his head as if he misunderstood the question. "Why, a Jedi, of course."

"Exactly!" Xristos pointed straight at Dustil as he said it, "that is what I've been trying to tell you. You want to be a Jedi. This is the goal you've set for yourself, and in your heart it's what you're seeking more earnestly than anything."

"I don't understand," Dustil said. "What I want and what I am are two different things."

"You are right," the old man said, "but I believe they're directly related. You see, the quintessence that is Jediness—the Light Side—that is not something that you—nor anyone—will ever be able to achieve. Even the masters are imperfect and flawed. If you were basing it off of their actions, then they are terrible, terrible Jedi. I mean, look at Caius. Twice, the Council has failed him in the most extreme way imaginable. He came to them with an issue so monumental and so improbable that they just dismissed him. They didn't do _anything_. That's twice the Council—the High Council—failed him utterly and completely. In fact, I'd say they behaved Sith-like in what they did to him. But does that mean that they weren't Jedi? Of course not."

"I still don't understand what you mean. Of course _they_ were Jedi. I mean me."

"I'm getting there, don't worry. My point is that you can't judge what someone is only by their actions, because they make mistakes. The Council made a mistake. You made one. I've made _thousands_, but that doesn't I'm any less of a Jedi than they are. Because it's still what I'm striving to be. Even though I may have fallen on my face in representing what a Jedi is, that does not mean that I'm going to give up. It's simply about desire, Dustil. Someone could be the most perfect example of a Jedi on the outside but be hollow inside. And someone may be a bumbling idiot on the outside, but if inwardly he is really trying to be a Jedi and trusting that, then which of them is truly a Jedi? The second one."

"I think…" Dustil just trailed off and mumbled to himself

Xristos did not let up, continued, "Take your Ajunta Pall example. You are afraid that you are going to end up like him. Now, I don't believe that _anyone_ will end up like he did accidentally. There's no way someone could earnestly and sincerely pursue the ideal of the Jedi and somehow wind up like Pall because of some sort of inscrutable set of guidelines that he didn't follow correctly. Pall knew exactly what he was doing. He may have misjudged the consequences, but he ended up right where he always knew he would."

"So…you're saying it's a decision?"

"That's precisely my point—it's all a choice, Dustil. Only you can determine it—it simply depends on what you deeply, truly desire to be. If you want to be a Jedi and try as hard as you can to be that—then that is all anyone can ask of you."

"This is still so…unusual. I don't know if I readily believe this."

"I blame the Order for that," Xristos said dismissively, flicking his wrist in some kind of hand-waving motion. "They're so _legalistic_. I mean, they'd have you put your hand over your heart and swear that you're a follower of the Light Side. But what does that get you? Eternal complacency? If it worked that way, there'd be no reason to try to do anything afterwards. The whole point of the Jedi is to try to stabilize this broken universe. The only way we can is by trying to measure up to this ideal. The desire to be something more than we are begets the actions that they would tell you are important in the first place. But what's true is what's in your heart."

"I guess so," Dustil said. There was a small, still silence for a few moments before he spoke again. "So I want to be a Jedi. I wanted to be a Sith once, so that made me a Sith then?"

"Yes, it did. But you were younger then and you didn't know what you were getting into. When Revan came and changed your mind, it showed that you were ready and willing to be corrected. Your desire was more for truth than it was for the Dark Side. If you wanted the Dark Side in and of itself, it wouldn't have mattered if Revan showed you it was evil. You would've_ wanted_ it anyway. But you were after goodness the whole time, it just took someone to show you the way. But, again, I say—_you _made the decision. Not Revan. Dustil, you are as much a Jedi as me, Bastila, or even Nantaris. Provided you always want to be."

"Hmm, I think you're right," he said. The young man leaned back and a weary smile crept across his face. He said, "Thanks old man, I needed to hear that. I still don't know if I agree with everything you said. But this is comforting to me. When Selene was yelling at me I tried to tell her that I didn't want to be a Sith, that I was a Jedi, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"That's because the Selene you saw was a phantom of the Dark Side. She sought to place doubt within you. But remember this, Dustil; doubt itself is never the enemy. Only when you allow it to corrupt you and make you jaded will it be your enemy. Such cynicism will eventually lead you down the path of apathy—and that will get you nowhere. It's better to be hot or cold than simply _nothing_. As I have stated—conviction is all important."

Dustil allowed a very deep breath to escape his lungs. He stood up and smoothed out his robes that had wrinkled from sitting on the ground. "I will think about this, old man," he said. "But thank you, this conversation has helped. It's torture trying to work it out yourself. Talking helps, if only because you can bounce your feelings and ideas off of someone else."

"Indeed it does," Xristos said. "And I know all too well what you mean by saying figuring it out alone is hard."

Dustil was about to leave, but figured he'd ask the question, "What were you trying to figure out, Xristos?"

The old Jedi rolled let his coat fall off and rolled onto his side on his bunk. "Perhaps I'll tell you in the future, kid. But for now, all this long-winded talking has made me tired. Wake me when we get to Coruscant."

"All right then, and thanks."

"Any time."

* * *

Meanwhile, as Xristos and Dustil engaged in such philosophical musings, Bastila and Allie were speaking to each other in the other dormitory on the ship. They were both exhausted and ready to go to sleep, but before they could, Allie had to inform Bastila of her plans.

"Bastila," she said, "I don't know about leaving when we get back to Coruscant."

"What, why not?" the Jedi asked. "You've done what we asked of you. Our financial backers only signed off on a check for you for this duration of the trip."

"I know," she said, "I don't mean money. I think…I think I should stay."

Bastila was surprised, she said, "What, why would you want to stay? This is going to be dangerous, Allie. We might get killed."

"I know I can't fight," she said, looking down at her feet that were hanging over the side of her bunk, "but I want to be a part of this. I can't leave you all now. And there's no telling when you might need another mechanic."

"This is true," Bastila said, "but since I'm not in control of the finances, I don't know how everything will work out. But if you want to go—that's your decision."

"I know," Allie said, "but I can't leave you all now."

"I don't see why not," Bastila admitted, "danger is a pretty good reason."

Allie sighed, said dejectedly, "Yes, but I can't leave you all. I've never been very good with people, but here I actually feel like a part of something. I don't want to just leave it."

"What do you mean you aren't that good with people? You seem fine to me."

"I don't talk to anyone but you and Caius. I've never had that many friends in my life—I've only ever been rather solitary. This is something I'm not used to, but I like it."

Bastila walked to her bunk and fell face down on it. "Well, that's interesting," she said, "you can certainly stay. I just don't want you to regret it."

"I won't," she said with conviction.

Bastila realized that her words were somewhat cold mid-way through her last comment, and felt it necessary to soften them. She made sure Allie could see her face and said as warmly as she could, "Well, I'm glad to have you stay with us, then, Allie. I probably need another woman around to balance out the…rest of our crew."

Allie laughed slightly at the comment.

"All right," said Bastila, "now I'm going to sleep. The last twenty-four hours have been…hectic."

"Goodnight, Bastila."

* * *

Elliott had long since jumped into hyperspace, and the _Hawk_ was quickly making her journey back to the capital world of the Republic. As the rest of the crew discussed philosophy and then resigned to weary sleep, Elliott was still piloting the ship. It was a thankless job, and one that few could do. Caius had kept him company for a while, but eventually he also left to sleep. Elliott would have to catch his sleep later, for now the ship needed to be landed. It _was_ a thankless job, but he didn't care so long as he got paid. That was thanks enough for him—and he was being paid _plenty_.

The assorted blue cone of hyperspace eventually slowed to a brilliant display of sluggish white lines. The stars made huge streaks in space as they slowed, like a thousand shooting stars at once. The sight was always beautiful. He had been piloting all his life, but he always found a sort of peaceful tranquility in observing that sight.

Coruscant quickly roared into view. The hugely populated planet shone brightly as its trillions of lights emanated from the surface. Elliott guided his bird smoothly through the atmosphere and broadcasted their ID signature to the docking authorities near the Jedi Temple. There were no hitches and he brought the ship down gently. It was evening there, the sun beginning to fade its way over the horizon, grayness falling over the sky.

He received a transmission from the port authority saying that Nantaris was on his way to meet them for some reason or other. Elliott didn't want to be around when the Jedi showed, so he figured he'd head outside quickly as possible, smoke a cigarette, and then get back in before the man arrived.

He stood outside, feeling relaxed from the drug, and silently pondering his current predicament. It was a lot like the days of his past. He had spent most of his recent years in smuggling and illegal trade, now he was back in a war-like environment and he wasn't sure he enjoyed it. His musings were interrupted by footsteps coming down the loading ramp.

He met the gaze of a very graceful figure descending the ramp. "Hey Bastila," he said nonchalantly.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," he said, tapping the side of his cigarette and dropping ashes to the ground.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

He expelled smoke, said, "Just taking a break before Nantaris shows up."

"Yes, I heard he's coming. Why do you say it that way?" It was dark out a little cool, so Bastila pulled her overcoat over her shoulders as she spoke.

Elliott dropped the butt of his now diminished cigarette and squashed it with his boot, said, "Because I don't like Jedi." He looked up to Bastila and continued, "Except you, of course."

"Uh…thanks."

"In all seriousness," he continued, "they are nice and everything, but so many wars are fought over them and their Sith counterparts. It doesn't matter what they're intentions are—they're the harbingers of death."

"That's rather eloquent, although totally incorrect. Where did you hear that line?"

"Oh, what? I can't use a word like 'harbinger'?"

"You can," she granted, "but I didn't take you for someone with a large vocabulary."

"Do I seem that transparent to you? I suppose all of you think I'm just the shallow pilot, not good for anything but shooting and being sarcastic. In a way that's true, but you've all got your dark and confusing pasts. Let me tell you, I have one too. The Jedi aren't alone in that, I just feel I don't have to talk about it." He lit another cigarette, said, "Oh, and I hold you all personally responsible, too."

Bastila wasn't really sure what to make of this. Of course she had thought that the man was good for nothing. He was a skilled pilot who otherwise single-mindedly pursued alcohol and sex, but apparently there was more than meets the eye. Not much more, but still something there. It was rather unfair of her to assume he was so base.

"But that doesn't mean we can't be friends. Or perhaps something more," he said with sly smile.

She was then disgusted with him again. Apparently he was more than a womanizing fool, but he sure didn't let on. It was as if he thought he had to maintain this persona in front of everyone. She wondered why. She thought about asking, but her mind left that train of thought when she saw a figure approaching. It was a Jedi, dark robes, certainly Nantaris.

Elliott was about to throw down his cigarette and leave, but Bastila said, "Why don't you stay? He's not going to do anything to you."

"Oh?" he snickered, "I see you were thinking the same as me."

Bastila was unsure what he meant until she realized that the last thing he had said was about them being more than friends. She inwardly cursed herself, but buried the animosity as Nantaris approached.

"Nantaris!" she called to him. "How are you?"

His face lit up as he approached, "Not bad, lass! Still in one piece after Korriban, I see!" He looked to the pilot, said, "And you must be Elliott. How's the ship holding up?"

"Fine," he said curtly.

"Well," Nantaris said, "the last couple days have been very…stressful, but I was able to make time to come meet you here. Carth was going to come, but he got tied up, so I had to scramble and come to brief you on what he learned."

"I'm glad you came," she said, though she really had wished that she could've seen Carth instead. "What has been so stressful?"

Nantaris looked rather uneasy all of a sudden, and sucked in his breath as though he was about to bear bad news. "Well," he said, "Vrook suffered a stroke two days ago. He's been hospitalized and there's no word on his condition. The doctors are fearing brain damage, but hoping that he'll make at least some recovery. Either way, he's not able to lead the Order any longer."

"Does that mean?" Bastila began.

"Yes," he said, though somewhat reserved, "I am now the Grandmaster of the Order."

Bastila was shocked to hear this, and she was equally concerned for Vrook. Despite his cold personality and somewhat arrogant attitude, he had still been a friend through thick and thin.

Nantaris, on the other hand, was not exactly thrilled with his new position. He had really been the product of necessity. He had never wanted this position, but there really was no one else, so he simply had to do his duty. "It's funny, lass," he said on the subject, "but now that I'm Grandmaster, I must be the first who didn't want the role at all. But look what has happened in the last several months—I've gone from grunt to Grandmaster!" He chuckled, though Bastila wasn't sure if he really found the situation amusing or he was just trying to lighten his own heavy burden.

"Well, I'm glad the Order is in capable hands," she said.

"Is it?" he asked, confusing Bastila. "Thanks for the vote of confidence!"

As he finished this sentence, Caius emerged from the _Hawk_ and walked down the ramp. He was a little disoriented, but managed to suppress a yell and say, "Nantaris! What are you doing here?"

"I'm the Grandmessenger of the Order," he said wryly. "I'm here in the place of Admiral Onasi." There was a pause before he spoke again, saying, "Lad, how are you? You look like something the dog dragged in."

"Yeah, I just woke up. All the others are still sleeping, too."

"I see," Nantaris said, "I would be tired too after the debacle on Korriban." He put his hand to his mouth, "I suppose that leads into business then. Carth told me about what happened, and I cannot lie, I find these descriptions of the Sith terribly disconcerting. I hope we can get the jump on them and prevent any trouble."

Everyone agreed silently.

Nantaris continued, "However, I'm here mostly to inform you that your fuel tanks will be filled, we have a group of techs on the way with more weapons, and you'll get some food as well. Hard tack, my favorite."

"Was that a joke?" Caius asked.

"If you have to ask, you'll never know, lad."

"I see…"

"Now," Nantaris said, returning to seriousness, "I must relay to you what Carth told me. This planet you're going to, we don't know what it's called, but I can at least try describe what you're getting into—from the best we can tell, that is. The atmosphere there is very thick. At least, it looks like other planets we know that have a thick atmosphere. We can't say for certain because of the lack of information, but there's a good chance that it'd be really hot there. You know, Greenhouse Effect and such. You all need to be prepared for fatigue due to extreme heat—just in case. Don't exert yourselves too much, and drink lots of water. I'll have extra bottles brought for you. You never know. Don't get too worried—for all we know the planet's all ocean."

"Do you have any more suggestions?" Bastila asked, "is there anything we can wear that will help with heat?"

"Well," Nantaris said, "Jedi robes are going to be an issue. You will probably have to just wear the undercoat, but still…"

"I suppose we could do that easy enough."

"Listen lass," Nantaris said, "I wouldn't think too much about it. If it really is a greenhouse planet, you could walk around naked and it really wouldn't make that much of a difference."

"Ah, that sounds like a good idea," said Elliott, speaking for the first time since Nantaris's arrival.

Bastila clenched her fist and bit her lower lip, but did not say anything. She'd been through the cycle too many times with the irritating pilot; she knew there was no winning with him.

Nantaris continued, said, "That's really all we know. We can't say much about the surface because the atmosphere is so thick that we can't even guess as to what the ground is like—it could be barren or lush, no idea. The only other advice I can offer is to really, really think about where you land. There may be people on this planet, and it would be wise to avoid being detected. By that I mean: do everything within your power to avoid even being _seen_. You cannot allow yourselves to be compromised."

"This sounds…difficult," Caius said.

Nantaris nodded once, said, "It will be lad, there's no denying that." He then subconsciously looked both ways before leaning in and addressing the group in a whisper. He said, "Somehow, a rumor's been circulating about Sith. I don't know where it's coming from, but right now no one is really worried about it aside from Chancellor Sertorius. This puts your mission in jeopardy as well, there really isn't _any_ room for error at all. Any false moves might lead to a Sith invasion, so please, _please_ be careful. I don't mean to talk history at you, but remember the Hyperspace War. A Republic ship accidentally triggered the whole thing, so we must be careful to prevent that from happening again."

"We'll do our best," Bastila promised.

"I believe you will, lass." He looked up to the setting sun, said, "Well, I need to get going. It was nice seeing you all again, everything I told you would be here should show up soon enough, you'll just have to wait. He shook all three of their hands quickly, then said, "Good luck, my friends."

He then faded away. All three of them went back inside the ship and awaited the reinforcements of supplies. And soon they would embark for the unknown worlds.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Hooray, this is the end of Part I. As I said earlier, there will be three parts. So...yeah. _


	10. Chapter 9

Author's Notes: Yo-here's another update. I'm finally into the second part. Thanks to those of you who actually reviewed the last chapter, you're feedback is appreciated. For some reason the hits for this are higher than ever before, but reviews are lower than ever. It's somewhat...inconsistent. But oh well-there's also this nifty little new contraption that shows how many hits and individual viewers the story has. So I can see how many of you are sneaking around and what country you're from. So there! You think you're all hidden, trying to evade culpability, but I know! Heh, just kidding. Although it does say hits per country there are-it's actually pretty cool. But enough rambling-here's the beginning of the next part.

**Part II: Into Heart of Darkness **

**Chapter Nine**

The newly furnished _Ebon Hawk_ soared through hyperspace on the way out of the Republic. The finality had struck the crew hard. _Outside_ the Republic. No one they had yet known—living or dead—had done what they were about to do. Only Revan, and even his position was up in the air. But what was unsettling was the sheer strangeness of the situation. The Republic was so big, so unbelievably large that it takes light forever to get from side to the other. And they were going _outside_ of the confines of this familiar confederation. Even Caius was awed by the concept—he who had spent years on the outer rim in exile and who had fought the Mandalorians in their territory. It was a wholly new experience for all of them.

Now they just had to determine what to do once there. According to the data that Allie hacked out of the stubborn computer, this planet was the last place the _Ebon Hawk_ had been before Revan sent her and T3 back to known space. It was as good a place as any to start—in fact, it was the only place they could start.

That was another odd facet to the trip. In spite of the newness of the flight for the crew, their ship had already been where they were going. It took the wind out of their sails a little. For it wasn't _really_ uncharted territory, their ship knew the place.

It took a while for them to ride the hyperspace route all the way to their intended location. Most of the journey was spent in relative silence. They moved throughout the ship slowly and aimlessly, doing nothing but burning time away. They ate and drank little and slept even less. The ship was commanded by autopilot, and even Elliott meandered about the ship with the same silent apprehension shared by the others.

Only the droids behaved with some semblance of normalcy. Allie frequently tinkered with T3, seemingly forming a kind of connection to the erratic little droid, and HK continued to stew over his inability to handle him.

Every so often, Caius would bump into Bastila as they strolled through the halls, pretending that their steps had purpose. Bastila always regarded him awkwardly. She would look at him but at the same time away from him. She would try to avoid his route or gaze wherever possible. The oppressive silence caused her to turn inward and think herself crazy once again. Set back into her overly-analytical ways, she did not want to have to confront the one person who knew her inner issues. She now wished that she had never confessed to him all the things that had weighed so heavily on her, for the inner torment was now replaced with fear due to her inability to trust him. Especially now that she had solved some of the inner conflict in the Korriban cave. Now her fears were more external. She was not even certain why she feared he would divulge all her secrets. She could not imagine Caius as the kind of cloaked gossiper who would steal away at every waking moment to whisper these truths to anyone who would listen. It was not consistent with his personality, and even if it was, that was hardly the worst thing that could happen to her. And yet, these notions allowed her no comfort, forcing her into a state of perpetual paranoia over it. For these reasons, she avoided Caius. She hoped vainly that he'd somehow forget about what she said or something and she could leave her worries behind, but the great irony is that she would never know if he forgot unless she brought it up. Oh, it was a brutal cycle.

Caius's perspective was much more simplistic. If only Bastila knew how little he thought about her, she surely would have laughed at her own expense for the unnecessary worry she put herself through. For Caius only thought that she was acting standoff-ish for no other reason than she couldn't help it. He also believed that she would continue to act this way once a month as long as he would know her. But when he didn't bump into her in the halls, he thought nothing of her.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to his wound. Slowly, yes, his soul had been mended. But the process was laborious. And now it was not quite the same. Though he had his Force ability back, it was a different feeling, and he longed to return to the way he was before Malachor. He hoped that Revan would be the one who could do something about it. Now that they were finally heading into the Unknown Regions to find him, the stakes of the mission were raised for the Exile. He knew that this was really it. No one else he had encountered could solve the riddle that was his mysterious affliction. They had helped, but not healed. He held no false hope that he ever would be cured, but he knew that if someone could do it, it would be Revan. This was, in essence, his last chance. Either this worked or he would simply have the live the rest of his life with that hole in him. Fortunately, he was getting better at doing just that.

For hours on end this state continued, until eventually Elliott dispelled it. His voice blared over the intercom, announcing their upcoming drop from hyperspace. Caius thought that the voice was suddenly foreign, considering he had gone some time without hearing it—a feat no less incredible than walking on a new planet.

The entire crew assembled in the cockpit for this momentous occasion. Finally they had arrived in the Unknown Regions. Everyone stood in a half-circle around Elliott as he worked on the instruments, bringing the freighter out of transit. He hit the right succession of keys and then relaxed. The familiar scene of the thousand shooting stars repeated itself, and suddenly they found themselves in Sith space. The immediate feeling of the sameness of space was mixed with a profound sense of the unknown. It was a strange contrast, and everyone felt it as they watched their destination approach in the viewport.

The planet they were approaching was the third or fourth from its sun, and roughly the size of Coruscant—at least in terms of planetary mass. The whole orb was obscured behind a white and tan cloud, thick with streaks of brown running parallel to its equator. There were a few large brown spots, which could only be storms. The atmosphere was, as Nantaris had said, very thick. It was hard to visualize any land underneath the dense sky.

Elliott spoke. "It might be rough on the _Hawk_ to go through that sky. We'll have to take it slow and go in at a shallow angle. We don't want to damage the ship."

True to his word, Elliott plotted an entry course as shallow as possible while still avoiding the possibility of skipping off of the atmosphere and bouncing into space. Still the crew watched as their visibility was shot. As the ship plunged into the thick atmosphere, the viewport was clouded with dusty, brown air.

Eventually the ship fell out of the thick stratosphere and into the more visibility-friendly lower atmosphere. They were able to see the land. It was strangely discolored. Some of it was dead and brown, but other parts were greener. There didn't seem to be much water on the surface.

Elliott brought the ship lower, and asked, "Where should I set her down?"

"We need to balance between being close to a populated area, but not close enough to be seen," said Bastila, "can you do that?"

"Of course," said the pilot. "It's not easy, but I could do it for _you_."

Bastila didn't respond—though it was entirely possible that she didn't hear him.

They flew over what looked like a city, but from their great distance it was hard to tell. It was a great clump of brown things all clustered together in one of the green areas on the surface. Elliott picked out a large canyon to the east of the city and maneuvered a very long way around so that he could hide the ship in the natural wonder. It took some time, but he managed to creep around the back of the canyon, searching for a place to set the _Hawk_ down in. The large canyon thrust itself upward on one of its walls, connected to a modest mountain range. There was sparse foliage, but Elliott found the perfect landing spot. There seemed to be, in the side of the canyon mountains, a perfect, hangar-sized cave. The thing was practically begging the _Hawk_ to be set down in it. Elliott slowed the freighter to a hover and slid her gently into the massive slit in the side of the canyon. The _Hawk_ heaved and then set down easily.

There was a unified exhale as the ship's engines powered down.

"Well," said Elliott, "we landed on one of the Unknown Worlds."

* * *

Caius took one step outside before exclaiming, "Oh hell. It _is_ hot out here." He instantly threw his gray overcoat off and tossed it inside the ship. He could already feel his forehead beginning to perspire. He was only wearing his light gray undercoat—the Jedi garb that Elliott mockingly called "bath robes." He sighed, said to Bastila as she too dared a step outside, "We're in the shade, in a cave no less, and it must be—"

Bastila interrupted him, said, "The ship's instruments say that it's thirty-eight Celsius in the shade."

"You know what I really don't like?" Caius said oddly before supplying his own answer, "what you just said to me."

Bastila was rather offended by his comment, said, "Well, then have fun out here in the heat."

"What? That was not serious comment," he said apologetically, but she was already back inside the ship.

Caius wiped his hand across his forehead and then went back inside as well. The crew assembled in the main room and he addressed them. "All right," he began, "Nantaris's scientists were right on the mark—this place is scalding hot. It's tolerable, but by that I mean that we won't physically melt outside, but it's close. Now that we're here, what sort of plan of action do we take?"

"Well," said Dustil, "we could just stroll into town and ask the locals if they've seen Revan."

"That would be…unwise," said Bastila.

"No kidding," replied Elliott.

Xristos put his hand to his mouth, said, "Well, we know we can't draw attention to ourselves. We don't want to go parading around because we probably are aliens the likes of which they've never seen. We don't know how they'll react."

"Naturally," Caius said, "they'd make an uproar. And we don't want the Sith to take notice. Hell, we don't even know what the locals are here. They might _be_ Sith. Really…we're going to have to scout the place."

"Why not send HK?" Allie suggested, surprisingly adding to the strategic conversation.

"HK?" Caius asked, perplexed, "that droid would have the Republic at war within an hour."

"But," Allie continued, "he wouldn't draw attention to himself like we would. Well, at least if they have droids or robots or something. He could just scout the place out and then tell us what he finds."

Caius thought for a moment, admitted, "Well, I think that's probably our best bet."

"You're kidding, right?" Dustil asked.

Caius shook his head, "Allie said it—he's really our only option."

"We could send T3," Bastila suggested.

"No," Xristos responded, "he wouldn't be able to navigate some of the terrain well. We'd need HK just so he could get out of the canyon."

HK's photoreceptor's gleamed as he spoke, "Statement: Master, I am ready and willing to scout this environment. I am also willing to find and slay one of the inhabitants and bring it to you for study."

"No, HK," Caius said pointedly, "do not even fire a shot. Not even in self-defense. If someone sees you, just lose them and come straight back to the ship. But if they're following you…I don't know. Just don't fight or kill anyone."

"Resignation: All right, master. I can see you want to make this hard for me."

* * *

It was some time before HK returned to the ship. The crew grew nervous as the hours passed, but eventually the droid did come back. According to his tale, he had not been compromised either.

"Master," began the droid as he entered the main hold of the _Hawk_, "I have accrued much data on the inhabitants of this planet."

"What did you learn?" asked Caius.

The droid's head swiveled in that familiar three-point turn before he continued. "Answer: There are several different races on this world, master. It seems to be a conglomeration of species. Some are more numerous than others, but I was able to discern at least three main races. One is short and squat, they amble around quite pitifully—even by meatbag standards. The second is not much taller, though considerably thinner. They have long forearms and pale white skin—they also do not appear to communicate audibly. The third race—and by far the most prevalent—seem to be a more humanoid group. They are about size of the average human meatbag but with green skin. They are not like the Twileks either, though. The sides of the faces have an assortment of short tentacles that seem to function as ears."

"Wow," said Dustil, "you were able to learn all this just by watching them from a distance? That's impressive."

"Statement: Although my greatest asset is my ability to assassinate any and every meatbag the master deems of me—and I must make mention that he does not ask enough—I am still a protocol droid as well. It is within the very basic nature of my programming to be able to read and interpret meatbag organisms from either a distance or up close. And in a variety of circumstances."

"What else do you know, HK? Do all these species live in harmony with one another?"

"Answer: I believe they do, master. But as far as I can tell, this is not due to any sickening peace accords within their society. They are the bottom rung of a two-tiered hierarchy. In layman's terms: they are being oppressed. Slave labor, as it were."

Caius thought on this for a moment, asked, "Slaves, slaves to what? Are you sure of this?"

"Answer: I am fairly certain, master. Although, it must be stated that despite the fact that I am technically a protocol droid with a perfect historical record of interpreting alien behaviors, it is still possible that they are behaving the way they are as of their own volition. But the probability is against it."

"What's the probability that they aren't slaves?" Xristos asked.

"Answer: 2.1."

Xristos blew out his nose, said, "Well, I think I'll take the droid for his word. They sound like slaves."

"But slaves to what?" Bastila asked. "It couldn't be the Sith, could it?" Before anyone could offer an answer to her rhetorical question, she turned to HK and asked, "Did you see any Sith out there."

"Answer: Negative, Jedi Bastila, I observed none of the meatbags that attacked us on the dead planet. The only way to find out the answer to your query for certain is to ask one of them."

"Well, that doesn't seem to be a very likely possibility," Bastila said unhappily.

Xristos disagreed, said, "We could ask one. As long as we knew it was safe and we found one. I like to consider myself an amateur philologist. Perhaps I can use the Force to aid in communication with the native species. If I recall, Revan was adept at this skill."

"You want to just go out there and ask an alien what they're doing here?" Bastila asked, shocked. "Do you have any idea what kind of reaction that might cause? They might not even know that other species exist."

"If the Sith are here, then they would know," offered Caius. "And if they are slaves, then I doubt they'd be hostile to us."

"But what if the Sith aren't here?" Bastila asked.

"Then we have even less of a problem," Caius responded.

HK decided to offer his opinion once again, said, "Statement: Master, the natives of this world do not seem hostile in even the most innocent sense. They carry no weapons with them in the fields, and the farmers who toil there generally are solitary. If you wish to speak to one of these creatures, you could try to isolate one of the farming kinds. However, I would prefer it if we threatened them for information. You know where I stand."

"Uh, thanks but no thanks, HK," Caius said. "However, I think the droid has a decent idea about talking to the locals. Really, we're not going to make any progress unless we find out what they know. If we can find out whether or not there are Sith on this planet, that'll make our job much easier."

Bastila frowned, "I don't think that this is a good idea. But we don't seem to have much of an option. As you said, we're going to have to learn from the locals one way or another."

"Who should go?" Dustil asked.

"As few as possible," Bastila replied. "Obviously Xristos must go, as he is the one with the language aptitude. Only one other should accompany him, we don't want to frighten anyone with numbers, but of course we can't send him alone."

"I think it should be Caius," said Dustil. He didn't have any particular reason why, but perhaps he wanted to volunteer the Exile simply because he didn't want to go—despite his friendship with the old man.

Caius shrugged. "All right, I'll do it."

* * *

Caius and Xristos trudged through the bottom of the canyon, the intense heat covering them like a quilt. Both men had a film of sweat covering their bodies and the sun reflected off of them. They had forsaken their heavy robes for the lighter ones, but it was to no avail.

They followed a loose guide provided by HK, mapping out their route to a nearby farming area. Or what seemed to be a crop rotation of some kind from what the droid had described.

The bottom of the canyon was a wide, flat gully, sand and rocks everywhere. There was sparse foliage in it—only some pathetic shrubs that offered no shade. A little stream flowed leisurely through the middle of the flat expanse. Caius and Xristos determined to stay near it as long as possible. Unfortunately, it offered nothing more than peace of mind, for it was too small to be of any physical consolation. They would periodically splash the water all over their faces, but the stream was naturally warm. All they could do was stamp through it.

They did not speak to each other much due to fatigue, but eventually they did reach the landmark for which HK had informed them to be on the lookout. It was a strange, gnarled tree that almost seemed to have a face carved into its trunk. Its limbs were twisted and leafless, but it was so memorable due to the face. It bore a distinct resemblance to a howling ghost that might appear in a nightmare. It was merely an outline of eyes and a wide-open mouth.

A natural trail sprung out from the roots of the decaying tree, snaking up the canyon wall. There was a switchback, and then it appeared to emerge at the ridge.

Both Jedi hiked up the trail slowly, not wanting to exert themselves too much on such a hot planet. Though it was only a very short trail, about one hundred yards in total walking, it was very steep and it was still so incredibly hot.

As they finished their climb, they found themselves in the midst of a kind of farm. There were stalks of a mysterious plant spreading out miles and miles, as far as the eye could see. And they were suddenly in the middle of it. The crop was thin and tan, but it was much bigger than wheat. It was more resistant to the touch as well—they could not just blow it over. The two Jedi surveyed the horizon, marveling at the ocean of crops that expanded outwards. In the middle of the sea was an island city that looked like it was hewn out of dirt and stone.

"This is surreal," said Caius. The fact that they were so far away from the Republic was beginning to dawn on him, but the separation now felt as though it was not only one of distance but of time. He felt like had suddenly been transported thousands of years into the past.

"It is so…different," Xristos began. However, his words were cut short as both men heard the unmistakable shuffling of movement behind them. They instinctively turned around to confront whatever had made the noise. All they found, however, was the innocent sight of a large wooden cart moving towards them. It kicked up a billowing cloud of hot dust behind it as it moved down a dirt road only a few yards away from where the Jedi were standing.

As it came closer, they saw that a frighteningly large reptilian animal was yoked onto the front of the cart. The wagon itself was exposed, and giant bales of the grain crop were bundled together for transportation. On top of the red-scaled reptile there seemed to be a large, discolored bump. But as it continued on its path, they came to realize that it was actually another creature riding the beast on a saddle.

The small caravan was a complete anomaly to them. This part of their history was so far back that most completely ignored the fact that once all species in the galaxy had been confined to their own planets. This was a reminder of that truth. It was beautiful in its quaint simplicity. It harkened unto an era that was so foreign to them that it may as well never have existed, but it seemed so basic and so _true_ that they found the sight endearing. The two men would have been content to merely watch the wagon go, but their passive observations were taken from them when the cart stopped.

Apparently its driver had seen them.

The creature had reigned in the great lizard and halted its movement. Dust kicked up slightly around it, but after a few moments dissipated. The rider then just sat atop its steed, unmoving. Caius and Xristos were unsure what to do. The thing was certainly looking at them, but it was not making any movement. It simply sat there. Should they approach it? Would it run if they did so?

Their fears that the creature would jet off in a panic if they made a step towards it were assuaged when it dismounted and then took up standing next to the great beast. The two Jedi looked at each other briefly before opting to wade through the crops towards their welcoming committee.

As they drew closer, they saw that this alien would be classified under HK's third category of races on this planet. It was just as tall as Xristos was, about six feet, and its body was as thick and muscular as a human's. It had very large yellow eyes that watched them unblinkingly, but showed no trace of fear of confusion. Its face was lean and tragic, a somewhat gaunt heart shaped head set upon its shoulders. On the sides of its face were the strange tentacle-like appendages that HK claimed were ears. There were many of them, and the longest of the members seemed to be about an inch. For some reason they reminded Caius of the buttons on an old manual typewriter. On the top of its head was a dark cloth, wrapped around it several times—presumably shielding it from the sun. It wore black clothes, pieces of cloth that bore a distinct resemblance to human clothing. It had a dirtied coat over a darker green shirt, and black trousers that protected the creature's distinctly avian legs from the sun and dirt of their world. It had strange looking leather shoes that were warped to accommodate the almost hoofed look of its feet.

The two Jedi reached the edge of the road where the alien was standing, and still it did not move. It regarded them almost casually. Considering the scope of its find, they had assumed that the thing would be a little more enthusiastic, or at least interested. But it appeared not to regard them as anything out of the ordinary.

Caius leaned and whispered to Xristos, "Should we say something to it?"

Before Xristos could respond, the alien made a gesture. It silently held its hand out to them. Four long fingers unfolded to reveal what looked like nuts in its palm. It gestured towards them.

"Does it want us to take them?" Caius asked.

"I think so."

"Should we do it? What if they're poisoned or something."

Xristos thought for a moment, then said, "I doubt that this thing carries around nuts laced with cyanide just in case he finds two aliens in his crop field." Xristos smiled at the thing and took one of the nuggets in his hand, then said "Thank you." Of course it wouldn't understand, but maybe the sound of speech mattered.

He popped it into his mouth and then swallowed. He smirked at Caius and then said, "It's fine. It tastes like an almond."

Caius then ate the nut in turn. Still, however, the alien regarded them with the same bland expression. Its small mouth did not move, and it barely turned its head.

"Didn't you say you could learn to speak to it?" Caius asked.

"It has to talk first," Xristos responded.

The creature seemed too polite to interrupt their conversation. They looked back towards it and it still simply stood there, staring at them. Caius was assuming that the alien was a male of its species. Of course, he had no justification for this, he just figured that a female of its kind would somehow remind him of a woman. For all he knew, this thing was part of a mono-gendered or androgynous race, but he decided he would think of it as a "he."

"Thank you for the food," Caius said, trying to get the thing to speak. It did not oblige.

"Do you have any water?" Xristos asked. Still the creature stared. He tried to mime the action of drinking for a few seconds. The alien then, still without speaking, reached down to a pouch around its waist and pulled a flask out. It appeared to be some kind of canteen. It then handed the brownish, organ-looking container to the old Jedi.

Xristos tilted his head back to drink it, spilling a little before getting his fill. "Wow," he said, "that's the best water I've ever had."

In the midst of the strange encounter with the alien and the awe of seeing a new species, Caius had forgotten both the heat and his thirst. However, now it came rushing back to him. After Xristos gave the flask back to the alien, it silently turned and offered the canteen to him. He thankfully took the offer and downed a rather large gulp of the surprisingly cold liquid. He let out a refreshed gasp as he gave the canteen back to the generous alien.

The monotonous stare continued for a few more seconds before the alien finally spoke. It uttered what only seemed like one word. It was a reasonably paced, breathy kind of speech, almost musical in its nature.

Xristos immediately leapt on the opportunity and sent a surge of the Force through the alien. It seemed to be aware that he was doing something, but was generally unconcerned, maintaining its usual stance of passiveness. Xristos concentrated hard. He closed his eyes and held out his right hand, trying to accomplish the language trick. Revan was much more skilled in the art, but as long as he could glean a small understanding of their speech, it would be a success. The old Jedi blinked and opened his eyes, signifying a return to normalcy.

The alien tried again, muttered its one word sentence.

"He says," Xristos began with difficulty, "he wants us to follow him."

"Ask him what for."

Xristos did, then responded, "He says that we are poor and starving, and that his family will take care of us. I don't know where he inferred that, he thinks we're refugees out here or something. It's odd, I would think he'd be shocked that we're here, but he doesn't seem to be."

"We can't follow him, we don't know what that even means. Ask why he thinks we need help."

Once again, the old Jedi spoke in what even Caius thought sounded like broken alien-language. He returned, "He says that we must be hungry and thirsty since we took his food."

"But, we were trying to be polite," Caius said forlornly.

"He doesn't understand," Xristos said after another exchange. "Why take it if you don't need it? he asks."

Caius thought for a moment, then said, "Tell him we didn't know. We won't take any food anymore. See if you can bait him into answering some questions."

The alien would buy none of it. Xristos returned, "He says if we didn't need the food and water, then we now owe him a favor."

Caius sighed. Apparently they had violated some sort of code of alien chivalry. And it only took them about five minutes to do it. "Tell him we'll do him a favor if he'll answer our questions."

"He will answer after we do something for him."

"Very well, what does he want?"

Xristos negotiated for a moment, then said, "He wants us to fix his household robot."

"They have droids on this planet?"

The old man shrugged, said, "I guess so."

Caius mused, "And I thought they looked so primitive." He sighed, then continued, "There's going to issues with that. We don't want to be seen, and I doubt either of us could do it. We need Allie. Try to explain it to him."

Xristos did so, then replied to Caius, "He says that our presence in the city would be no less strange than anything else."

"I don't think he understands," Caius said. "We're afraid of the Sith. Could you explain that to him?"

"I don't believe they have a word for 'Sith' as we do," said the older Jedi, "it'll be hard, but I can try." He then launched into his longest turn yet. Caius could see that he struggled mightily to convey their anxiety. Eventually, the alien understood and consented. Xristos said, "He says that there are very few Sith on this planet. They are all concentrated in their headquarters area in the middle of the city and rarely leave it aside from dolling out punishment. And even so, he could conceal us from them—everyone knows tricks for that."

Caius frowned. It sounded too dangerous, but they desperately needed someone who could be an informant to them. They needed a lead. _Any_ lead. And this alien presented the possibility, but they'd have to journey into the city for him to talk. The other problem then entered his thought, he said, "Tell him that we can't do it. We need to get Allie."

Xristos again spoke to the alien, then back to Caius. "He said he believes us. He says return here tomorrow at the same time with Allie and he'll be making the rounds again. We can go with him then."

"That's good," Caius said, "and it'll give us time to deliberate what to do."

The alien then moved swiftly and suddenly. Caius was shocked since the thing had stood so still for so long he had almost come to regard him as a statue. However, the creature merely mounted the giant lizard that had patiently waited for it and then ushered it into movement.

Xristos was about to bid the alien goodbye before Caius asked, "Wait—should we get his name? You never know."

Xristos called after it. The alien answered and then began moving his large wagon away from them, down his beaten path towards the city. The old man said, "He is called Hronah, of the Hasan."

The two Jedi watched the perplexing creature as he faded down the road, devolving into a speck as his cart and monster lizard increased the distance between them. They sighed simultaneously when they realized that they would have to make the long trek through the heat and back to the _Hawk_. The only consolation was that the day seemed to be waning. But the heat did not lessen its intensity.

* * *

"I can't take this heat," said Bastila from underneath a bag of ice. The small piece of coldness was resting on her forehead as she reclined on her chair in the briefing room.

"Better get used to it, babe," Elliott said nonchalantly. "If it's this hot in the shade—inside the ship—then there's not much I can do about it."

Bastila was tired of talking to Elliott, but Allie had been quiet and Dustil was meditating or something. Or perhaps he was taking a cold shower. _That sounds like a good idea_, she thought to herself.

She was drenched in sweat. She was also wearing the Jedi undercoat, but it really made no difference in her general misery factor. She had rigged a bag of ice from the _Hawk_'s kitchen to keep herself cool, but the ice was melting fast. Soon she'd have to recycle it so they did not run out of water.

She sighed in distress, said, "This isn't working."

"You know, you could always do what Nantaris said—that might help," Elliott suggested for clearly ulterior purposes.

"What was that?" she asked, feigning ignorance in the hope that Elliott might not say it.

But he did.

"You could take your clothes off."

"Why must…" Bastila began angrily before stopping herself. No matter how many times she degenerated into a mudslinging bout with Elliott, it had never accomplished anything. In fact, it had only perpetuated his annoying tendencies. She would have to rethink her strategy to defeat him. Suddenly she had an idea.

"You know," she said, "I just might do that."

Elliott's eyes widened with surprise, "_Really_?" he asked. His voice cracked when he stated his question, resulting in embarrassment. He cleared his throat and asked again in an intentionally deep voice, "Really?"

"Yes, I think I will," she said. "But of course I'll go into my room first and lock the door—that way I can cool off and be in private."

"Damn you, woman," said Elliott. "I mean…uh…"

"You are not going to win this time," Bastila stated victoriously.

Elliott frowned, said, "It just got a lot colder in here."

"That it did," Bastila replied. She was about to stride arrogantly out of the room due to her victory, but against her better judgment, decided to ask a question. She said, "Why don't you give Allie as much of a hard time as me?"

Elliott's face scrunched up all oddly, he said, "_Allie_? Eck."

Bastila was offended by this, though she wasn't really sure why. She didn't really have any sympathies for Allie, but she was disgusted by the fact that Elliott thought she was so far beneath him. She said, "What's that for? She's attractive."

"Yeah, I guess," Elliott said, "if you like girls who don't wear makeup and work on machines all day."

"I take it you don't."

He shook his head, said, "Nope. If you can persuade her to change her behavior that way, then I might leave you alone."

"How is it that someone like _you_ maintains such high standards for everyone. Even if she changed what you didn't like, you'd find another fault."

Elliott mused, said, "Well, you could try to make her prettier than you. Then I'd leave you alone. Of course, that'd be pretty hard. So I guess you're stuck."

Bastila frowned again and began her storm away from the room. She could've left in triumph, but she had to ask a stupid question and fritter away her much needed success.

Elliott said, "This is a victory for me, isn't it?"

"You are such…a…such an ass!" she said bitterly.

"Ouch! Claws out today!"

Before the verbal spar could continue, the sounds of Xristos and Caius stumbling back onto the _Ebon Hawk_ ended all the conversations onboard. Both men were exhausted and asking for water. Bastila obliged them.

She asked, "What did you find out?"

"We may have a lead," Caius said. "We'll talk about it. For now, just let me rest."


	11. Chapter 10

Author's Notes: Well, good news to those of you in my characteristically silent readership, I've finally shaken off that loathsome inactivity and started writing this story again, which means I'll start posting once a week again (barring another relapse). I won't be able to put one up this weekend, so I figured I'd just do it now. So here's a long chapter for all of you. Thanks for reading, and as always, feedback is appreciated. Speaking of that, special thanks to **Jen DeClan **for consistently taking the time to do so.

**Chapter Ten**

They renewed the scalding trek the next day. Caius, Xristos, and Allie followed along the same path that they had charted out the first day. They carried plenty of water, and trudged slowly through the miserable stream at the bottom of the gorge.

"This place," Allie said with exhaustion, "is too hot."

It took the crew some time to arrive at a consensus about what to do on the planet. Caius and Xristos seemed sure that the alien they met meant them no harm and could be a very important ally, but Bastila and Dustil thought it was unwise to follow him into the city. In the end, both sides had to agree to disagree, and operated under the fact that they had not much choice in the matter. They needed help, and the alien had come straight up to them and offered it.

They reached the mutilated tree that signaled the climax of their hike and began the short, unhappy ascent up the canyon wall.

Reaching the meeting point, they discovered that they were early, and so had to settle down and wait for their contact. They sat on the wickedly hot ground as they passed the time.

While sitting, Caius decided to make conversation, and asked a question that had recently come into mind about his mechanic. He said, "Hey Allie, why did you decide to come with us after Korriban?"

She looked rather perturbed by the question and did not really offer a concrete answer. "Well," she said, "I figured you would probably need a mechanic sometime—right now is a good example."

"That's true—but that doesn't explain why you came. We could've gotten another mechanic if you had wanted."

Her expression twisted into a strange sort of confused frown.

Caius quickly recovered, said, "Not that you are unwanted at all. I mean…you were so concerned about the danger on Nar Shaddaa and Korriban—I figured that you'd want to get as far away from us as possible."

"I—uh—changed my mind," she responded ambiguously.

"I can see that. What caused the change?" Caius probed.

"Nothing really concrete. I just decided that I liked all of you enough to tag along until the end."

Caius was confused by her answer, said, "You came because you like all of these people? Have you met some of them?" He paused. "Never mind that last question. But…you don't seem to talk to the others much. At all, really. Strange that you say you like them all."

"Why is it _that_ important to you?" she asked defensively. Caius noticed she seemed rather flustered. He had no idea why, but apparently she did not want to be asked about this.

Fortunately, no sooner had the conversation ended than Xristos announced that he could see the alien—Hronah—approaching on his cart. He was coming the same direction as last time.

"Is that the alien?" Allie asked.

Caius nodded as the group stood up and moved to the side of the dirt road, awaiting their ride. Allie seemed to be unnerved by the same large lizard that was pulling the wooden wagon, but she gained resolve when she saw how timid it was. Hronah fed it some kind of plant when he dismounted, leading them to believe that despite its carnivorous appearance it actually ate vegetables.

The alien told Xristos that they could climb into the back of the wagon and sit on the bales of the crop. When they got to the city, they could hide at the bottom if they wanted, though he seemed sure that no one would care, much less raise an alarm.

The group obeyed and climbed into the back of the cart and settled in. Caius rolled backwards as their chauffer started up their movement. Allie laughed as he fell into the side of the wooden wall and Xristos just smirked.

The ride was bumpy, to say the least. The two large wheels on the cart were crudely designed, and they wobbled back and forth. Even cruder than the wheels was the rugged road. It was basically created out of rock, and the wheels bounced violently whenever they struck stone.

Hronah did not have as difficult a time as he swayed with the movements of his large lizard.

None of them spoke during the trip, adding to the duration of the journey. Caius merely watched the sky. It was blue, but it was mixed with tan and gave the day a perpetual feel of a kind of hazy morning. The sky was bright, incredibly bright, but the dust in the sky turned it into a dirtier feel.

Caius continued staring upwards, and soon he was treated to a new sight. The unobstructed majesty of the sky gave way to primitive towers that looked to be made of earth. They were not tall, and very close together. However, their height and proximity increased the further they penetrated the city. The buildings looked like they had been erected straight out of ground, build from mud and rock. The windows were simple holes in the walls, and it occurred to him that it must get unbearably hot in them. But perhaps the native creatures had adapted to the heat.

He rolled and shifted onto his side, looking through a crack in the wooden panels into the city streets. He could just barely peek through the crease, but was able to observe much. He saw several different alien species, but consistently observed the three HK had detailed. The short, fat ones were amusing. They waddled as they walked, looking like oversized green peas that he could envision rolling down the street. The rotund creatures had short, stubby legs and arms, and little heads that hung forward off of the top of their short bodies. Caius also saw the white aliens that HK had spoken of. They were barely taller than the fat ones, but much thinner. Their forearms were disproportionately large and they walked mostly on their knuckles. Completely bald, the aliens' domed heads sagged forward on hunched shoulders. What was odd about them was they had no ears or nose that he could see. They had a simple slit at the bottom of their heads for a mouth. According to HK these were the ones that did not communicate audibly, but Caius had no idea how they would talk. There was plenty of the third race on the planet, the Hasan, as Xristos had said. By far they were the most prevalent.

They moved slowly through the city. Caius watched as all the aliens went about their daily routines. It was odd, they certainly did not seem like slaves at all, but HK had assured them that they were. And Xristos said the alien had referenced the Sith by talking about "punishment" of some kind. The whole situation did not sit well with him.

Eventually, the cart came to a stop in a secluded place. Caius perceived the area as some kind of fenced area. He heard Hronah dismount and unhitch his beast from the cart. He assumed they must have arrived wherever they were supposed to. The alien spoke something, and Xristos echoed that they were allowed to get out.

All three of them popped their heads out of the bales of the hay and looked around. They were in a corral. The lizard was roaming freely in a small fenced area that was behind a large mud building. Apparently one of the streets was around the corner, but no one was around them. They shuffled out of the wagon and were led by the alien into an opening in the building that led downstairs. It got cooler as they descended, and after a flight they reached a closed door. The alien unlocked it and opened it.

They were ushered in to find that the house he was leading them into was completely buried underground. It offered respite from the heat, but not much light. They had crude electric lights that Caius wasn't sure were supposed to be there and many, many candles and lamps. The alien then spoke to Xristos.

"He says that he must go back out, but that he will be back shortly and so will the rest of his family. For now we must wait."

Allie shuddered nervously and Caius said, "This could be a trap."

"Well," Xristos said, "there isn't anything we can do about it now. We might as well wait for whatever fate is approaching us."

Hronah then left them in the house. The lights were out, so it was very dim, but Caius could still see enough to move around. He examined everything in the room they were in, and noticed that much of the technology seemed to be in stark contrast with the earthen abode. It was as if many of their things did not belong in the setting. There were no chairs in the house at all, it seemed, so they had to either stand around or sit on the floor. Mostly they sat. The floor was hard but smooth, carved out of rock and then sanded down. It was very cold to the touch and incredibly comforting to them to get out of the heat.

"Do you think you'll be able to fix their droid?" Caius asked Allie.

"I don't know," she said, "it might be different than any of our kinds of droids. If it is…I don't know what I'd do with it."

The conversation drifted into small talk and then eventually Caius shifted it to ask Xristos something. He said, "Hey, is it possible for me to learn how to do that language thing?"

"I think so," Xristos said. "I could try to teach you how to do it."

He cleared his throat before he began, "Think of it in this way. It's like how you focus to do mind reading or persuasion powers, but a little different."

Caius unconsciously closed his eyes despite the fact that it was already pretty dark in the room. Allie was nearby, but he assumed she was merely listening and not very interested at that.

"The hardest thing to do is to let go of all your preconceived notions of language. That may be difficult, but you must try. Stop trying to think of things in the words that they are associated, but in the forms of their existence. Don't think of fruit, for instance, as a word, but as an external entity—something that merely is and words do not do it justice. That will pull you out of basic and from the trappings of ontological origins."

Caius tried this, but it was very difficult to shed the words he knew for things—even in multiple languages—from their respective labels. It was like he had to retreat into some sort of gray world where he did not know exactly how to define things or process thoughts.

"Now," Xristos continued, "you have to reach out with your perceptions to someone else—someone who speaks the language. You can use me, since I technically know it through this same process. Approach it in much the same way you would a persuasion trick. Reach into my mind, but instead of scrambling around what I think to suit your needs, pull out what you _want_ to know. Grab the words that are part of that unknown language and make them your own."

Caius obeyed, and for a little while nothing happened, but then Xristos said something aloud and there was an instant of profound confusion. His mind was flooded with all sorts of images and concepts and phrases that he did not understand but then _did_ at the same time. It was similar to the understanding one has in a dream. Everything in the dream makes sense, but one cannot precisely explain why. He felt this phenomenon as the deluge of thoughts swarmed into his mind. In one glorious instant, it ended.

He opened his eyes, though he still saw much darkness.

He was unsure, and opened his mouth to speak. He said, "_I don't think it worked_."

"Of course it did," Xristos said, "don't you realize?"

Caius was confused, thought for a moment and then had a piercing revelation. He had said that _in _the alien language. He had spoken it and not been aware. It had, indeed, worked to perfection.

"Wow," the Exile said, returning to his natural tongue, "that was incredible. Will I be able to speak it fluently?"

"Not without practice," the old man returned, "it'll be slippery for a while. It's still hard to adapt our colloquialisms and concepts to a foreign language, as well as become accustomed to theirs. As a whole, however, you should be able to speak it."

He was about to thank the old man when the lights in the room suddenly exploded into brightness. Caius was momentarily blinded as he had grown accustomed to the dim shade, but he was able to regain his senses. He looked up to see that the origin of the light was a strange floating orb suspended in the middle of the room. It had an odd, somewhat volcanic appearance, as what looked like lava swam within the sphere. The rays of light that it unleashed seemed to move and fluctuate with the red and orange lines that likewise oscillated within the orb. It was very beautiful.

Only moments after the orb had activated their alien friend entered the room. He spoke in his native language, and Caius understood it.

He said, "_My Loved Ones are come_." The language was odd, to say the least. It had a sort of archaic quality, as if it were a language that he would find in an ancient text of some kind. It occurred to him that the language was naturally musical as well. The words that Hronah spoke were practically sung, but it was clear that he did not shift his inflections to do it. They merely spoke in a very musical sound with a lyrical style. It made his own language seem equally bland and hard as rock.

"_They have our ghostly assistant with them_," Hronah continued. "_We hope that your companion will be able to repair him, for he is important to us._"

Several other aliens then entered the room. They were dragging what looked like a droid with them. The other aliens looked more or less the same as Hronah, though they varied in height somewhat dramatically. One was a little fatter, but on average they looked very similar. Their clothes, however, were different from each other.

They set up the droid in the middle of the room, underneath the orb, and left it alone. Caius was shocked at how similar it was to the droids he was familiar with. It bore a striking resemblance to those irritating touristy protocol droids that show up in vacation spots and try to tell you directions to everything.

"_What is wrong with it?_" Caius asked.

"_He no longer sings. We speak and sing to him, and he cannot back. He does what he is necessary, but his joy is taken. His work is hollow._"

Caius looked at Xristos quizzically, asked, "What do you think that means?"

Xristos mused, said, "I think he means that it can't talk."

"_He does not talk?_" Caius asked.

"_Yes, good friend. His song has been taken. But he still listens and longs to sing to us._"

Caius glanced at Allie, said, "Do you think you can fix it? Apparently it can't talk but still can take orders from them."

"I think I have an idea," she said. "Let me have a look."

She walked around the droid and peered into the back of its neck. She tinkered with the instruments for a few moments. "Ah, I see the problem," she said pleasantly, "the vocabulator is corroded. Let me see if I can repair it, I may have the right stuff in my bag." She rummaged through the bag of tools and equipment that she had brought with her, then said, "Here it is! I can fix it." She looked around, then said, "Uh, can you all stop watching though? It makes me nervous."

"Oh, uh, all right," Caius responded. "I'll see if I can tell them." He shifted his speech and looked at the alien and his family, said, "_She does not want us to observe_."

"_For what reason?_" asked Hronah.

"_She is uncomfortable with others watching her._"

"_This does not make me wiser,_" he said, "_why should we not watch? Your practice is uncertain, but we believe she will do good work without our oversight. We shall leave in peace_." With that, the group of aliens turned and were about to leave the house when Caius stopped them.

"_You do not have to go_," he said, "_she just wants privacy._" Eventually Caius convinced them that they didn't have to leave and Allie subsequently took the droid into another room in order to operate on it.

It was hard to communicate to the aliens—the Hasan. Their language was somewhat counter-intuitive and they spoke too poetically. Often, the meanings of entire sentences eluded him.

As Allie worked, he got to know the hosts much better. He and Xristos engaged in long introductions and learned a lot about the aliens.

They gathered that Hronah lived here with his mother and father—the two more wrinkled and hunched of the group—and his wife. The females were very similar in appearance to the males of the race, the only discernible difference he could pick out was that their ear tentacles seemed to be somewhat discolored. The women of the race had bluish or purple markings on them. He wasn't sure if they were born like that or if it was a kind of cosmetic thing. The small alien was Hronah's son, who was not allowed to speak. It was custom for the children to remain quiet in the company of others.

They explained that the house was handed down through generations, and that their family had always lived here. They were one of the oldest in the city, and that is how they held onto the underground location that provided coolness. They were among the oldest and first. They explained, "_When the elders of our people pass, we continue the great cycle and the children assume their roles and continue their place_." It sounded awkward but he thought he understood. They also explained that the son would marry a female once they reached the proper age and then the female would move into their house and integrate within their family, lining up in position to be the matriarch in the future. The old patriarch said, "_When our son was old enough, he found her and they were joined together as one. One entity and flesh, and now they are here with their son who will also follow his father. And so the great cycle will continue for eternity._" Caius found it rather interesting, but his attention was jolted when they made a very curious statement. The older one then said, "_But surely you understand this. You are traveling with your father and mate here on this planet._"

Caius wasn't sure what was more outrageous: Xristos as his father or Allie as his wife. The thought then suddenly brought images of himself and Allie together in a very bizarre and intimate way. He blinked and thought, _That was weird_.

Before he could respond, Xristos answered for him and said that they were not related. Far from stopping the questions, the answer only brought more from their hosts, and they also seemed to be unwilling to accept that Caius and Allie were not married.

"_We do not understand_," said Hronah, "_if you are not Loved Ones, then why undertake a journey filled with such life and connections of family?_"

"_Because we must,_" Caius answered, then said hastily, _"And I am not joined with the girl._"

"_But you are_," the older male answered, "_even if not by blood, each of you are bound to each other through fate. Even if you say you are not of one flesh with your female companion, you are in truth for her life is dependent on yours and yours on hers. Is this not unity in the most loving and basic way? You are all joined with each other_."

Their logic confused him and he insisted, _"The old man is not my father. I do not know my parents_."

The aliens were horrified at this. Hronah's wife spoke instead this time, said, "_What terrible being you must endure. But this is what we are singing to you. You have left your family and have been joined together as one with your companions. They are your true family._"

Caius did not really know what to say. He just wanted them to stop. It rather irritated him, and now he couldn't get the images out of his mind that Xristos and Allie were his family. Maybe they were _like _family…sometimes, but that wasn't the same thing.

Xristos nudged him and said with a laugh, "They seem to really want you and Allie together."

"I don't get it. Why do they keep insisting that?"

"Family is obviously important to them. There's no use in really arguing it, is there? It doesn't really matter."

Caius frowned, said, "No, I guess not."

Fortunately, the conversation was ended when Allie re-entered the room. She was very gleeful, said, "Hey! I fixed the droid. Wasn't much of a problem, really. It was just routine maintenance. It makes me think that they don't really know how to take care of the droid."

"I wonder how they got it," Xristos said. "It seems to be too advanced a thing to have given their establishment here."

Allie activated the droid and it strolled back into the room and said, "_Greetings, LV-1 is here to serve. It is a pleasure to have my voice capabilities restored._" It was strange to hear the droid speak in a traditional mechanical style but in the poetic alien language. It was a stark contrast and smacked of the unnatural presence of the machine. It truly didn't belong in this environment.

"_It is good to hear you sing once again, LV-1,_" said Hronah's wife. _"Much thanks is owed to this one's mate,_" she indicated Allie and Caius.

The droid spoke, "_Ah, I see both of them. I must thank them for their sacrifices._" The droid then looked at his keepers and asked, although it was almost completely off topic, "_Are they lovers?_"

"What the hell?" Caius exclaimed, forgetting the alien language for a moment. It seemed to lack sufficient ways to curse anyway.

"What? What's wrong?" Allie asked.

"_Of course they are, silly ghost machine. Your song is one of great amusement_," said the matriarch.

"_I am sorry_," said the droid. "_I did not mean to doon this conversation to mere joking. I shall be ready and willing to serve immediately._"

Caius looked at Xristos and they both exchanged looks that blatantly said, "Did that machine just say 'doon'?"

"What's wrong?" Allie asked again, getting impatient.

Caius answered hesitantly, said, "The droid…is saying weird things."

"Oh, that's probably a side-effect of his vocabulator getting damaged. Is he mispronouncing things? That should clear up soon."

"Something like that," Caius said with a sigh.

Xristos decided it would be fun to speak up and said, "It also seems to think that you and Caius are star crossed lovers."

Allie's brown eyes suddenly increased their size almost twofold as she exclaimed, "_What?_"

Her face reddened and Caius thought he was too. His frustration at the whole ridiculous conversation was reaching its boiling point.

"Let's drop it," he said firmly, "I want to ask them questions about the Sith."

He turned to begin his inquisition, but the aliens were still preoccupied with Allie. She still stood there with a dazed look on her face as the group all turned to look at her. One said, "_We must thank the female for her noble aid. Shall we give her a gift?_"

Hronah agreed, "_I believe a gift is necessary._" They then began to babble with each other and Caius could not understand what they were saying. Eventually they seemed to reach a consensus and sent off the young one to go get something. It hopped gleefully away and then emerged from another room a few moments later with a dark jar.

Hronah took the container and then stepped elegantly towards Allie and presented it to her.

"Is this…for me?" she asked, somewhat shocked. Caius nodded so she took the jar and said, "Thank you," despite the fact that they couldn't understand. She hesitantly pried the lid off of the gift, completely unsure what to expect.

Her face conveyed confusion as she put her hand inside the jar and tried to pull the gift out. She tugged at it, and some kind of cloth came out of the container. It was initially wet, but somehow seemed to expand and dry as it came out into the air. She plucked the whole thing out of the jar and then held it up. It looked like a brightly colored tarp with floral designs on it.

Caius thought it was a blanket before Allie said, "It's…a dress?"

One of the aliens spoke and Caius translated for it, "They say that it belonged to the matriarch, but she wants you to have it."

"Am I supposed to wear it?"

Caius tried to judge from their speech whether they expected her to, and after a while judged that to tell Allie not to would be a lie. "I think they want you to," he answered.

She folded it under her am and looked down at it and back at the aliens, said, "Tell them thank you…but I don't like dresses. I never wear them—they're all old fashioned anyway."

Xristos spoke up, said, "You don't want to be rude, Allie. You only have to wear it once for them, then you can just get rid of it once we get back to the _Hawk_."

She frowned and then looked at the dress again, then exhaled and took it into another room.

Caius tried to put the whole family fiasco behind him and approached the aliens once again. He said, "_Hronah, you said that you would answer some questions if we helped you. Will you now?_"

"_This I promised. I shall not falter on such. Allow me a moment._" He turned and whispered something to his family. The young child took off and then his parents and wife all turned to leave. They began working on their separate things and then Hronah led Caius and Xristos away to a corner of the room and they all sat down on the smooth, rock floor. "_What do you want to know, my friends?_"

"_We need your help to find someone. Another of our kind._"

Hronah changed the direction of the conversation, asked, "_May I ask—for what is it that you come to our world?_"

Xristos answered, said, "_Our country is in danger—we are looking for someone who can help._"

"_I see_," he answered, "_and yet I do not. Who is it that you are seeking?_"

"_One of our race,_" answered Caius, "_have you seen another on this planet?_"

"_Not one, but several_," he answered ambiguously.

"_Several?_" Caius asked, confused, "_what do you mean? We're not the first of our kind you have seen?_"

Hronah blinked, said, "_Not at all. There are not many of you, but there are some_. _Would you like to meet them?_"

"_Uh…sure. Do you know what they are doing here?_"

"_They are toiling for the Lords. That is what we all do."_

Before Caius could ask what that meant, Hronah stood up. Allie had emerged from the dressing room and was standing in the doorway with the dress on. The other aliens all stopped and regarded her courteously.

She stood very still, asked Caius and Xristos somewhat timidly, "What do you think?"

Both were stunned. They just sat there, not saying anything. Allie mistook the gesture and then said solemnly, "This is why I never wear dresses."

"_Allie_," Xristos began in that paternal fashion of his, "if you were to walk around outside in that, someone would propose marriage to you within five minutes."

She blushed, but seemed to brighten at the comment. She said sheepishly, "Thank you." She spun around and looked down at her feet. Her inner girl exploded outwards and she said, "I wish I had some shoes that went with it."

Caius was thoroughly shocked. _What the hell happened to the other Allie?_ he thought to himself. This one looked entirely different. The one he was familiar with always had dirt or other marks smeared across her face from working on machines, and always wore clothes that were too big and bore the same marks from work. This Allie was quite possibly one of the most attractive women he had ever seen. She would be able to compete with Bastila easily. He couldn't help but admire her as she spun around and showcased the dress, her wavy brown hair sweeping slightly through the air in the same motion as the dress. It was frayed at the edges, primarily red with elegant flowers sewn into it. It was a very modest dress, and Caius understood that it did not need to be revealing to be beautiful. There were no sleeves, and her slightly tanned arms glistened because of the heat of the planet. She smiled again, and then her familiar brilliant face returned. It seemed to fit her perfectly.

The aliens all seemed to think she was the greatest thing since their droid and the little one ran up and grabbed her leg. She tried to shake him off, but as he would not let go, she laughed and then hoisted him up and held him in front of her. The alien child looked at her oddly and then she brought him closer and held him there with one arm.

There was a strange kind of maternal vibe that she emanated. It was a combination of the dress and the fact that she was holding the child—even if it was an alien.

Hronah said quietly to Caius, "_She is very beautiful. You are well chosen._"

Caius wanted to be upset at this statement, but he couldn't muster the gall necessary to tell off the alien. And besides, even if the comment was not accurate in terms of their "relationship", it was certainly true. He nodded.

It then occurred to him that it was odd that the alien would say she was beautiful. He was, after all, an alien. Caius certainly wouldn't say that his wife was beautiful. Maybe she was—or maybe she looked like their equivalent of a dog, there was no way for him to know.

He then asked oddly, "_How do you know?_"

"_Her beauty is not a strictly physical being_," Hronah said condescendingly, apparently understanding exactly why Caius had asked, "_it is internal. She is in love with life. Look how she holds the child. And her smile is that of a friend. She is beautiful. She sings the body electric._"

They all stood for a while longer until Allie said that she felt uncomfortable with everyone looking at her and was going to go back and change.

Now Caius was confused, but he was determined not to be distracted further. He _would_ get his questions answered. No matter what.

"_Can we return to my questions, please?_" he asked Hronah, though he did not expect to be able to easily redirect the conversation.

"_You may_," the alien said somewhat surprisingly. "_You were learning of your own kind on this place._"

"_That is right. You said that they are here, 'toiling for the Lords.' What does that mean?_"

They both sat down on the ground as Hronah began to explain, he said, "_The Lords are the rulers. They live in the hive in the central square. They reach out with their fiendish agents and order our own products for themselves. They command. They do not sing, their voices are not music, but death._"

"_So…you are slaves?_" Caius asked.

"_I do not know this word. We merely are. We harvest our grain and the Lords demand much of it from us in order to feed themselves. They ask our favors and yet return none. They are not helpful, but they do not forbid our songs. We only must do rightly, and they will let us alone._"

"_But they make you harvest and take your food from you?_"

"_Yes—this they do._"

Allie had re-entered the room and was now in her old, unflattering clothes. Somehow, though, Caius could not get that image of her in the dress out of his head. She had retreated back into the form of the old Allie, but when he saw her he could only think of the new one. He tried very hard to ignore it and focus on his conversation with Hronah. "_Will you not do anything about it? How long has this been going on?_"

"_For many generations, since we knew that life existed on other worlds. The Lords brought many aliens with them to our planet and forced them all to work here. Most of the ones that you see are not from this place. Only the Hasan owned this planet once upon a time._"

"_But has anyone tried to stop it?_"

"_There were some who did. Several generations ago, the Hasan refused to obey. They hid their food, and when the Lords came into their homes to find it, they killed some of them. It was not many, but the taint of death was upon their hands and they were found._"

"_What happened?_"

Hronah continued the tale, "_They were caught. Those who did not obey were taken far away to somewhere we do not know. There, the Ruler of the Lords determined their fate. He blinded them. All of them. For every one hundred of them, the Ruler of Lords allowed one to keep an eye. He then abandoned this horde within the desert, allowing the One Eyes to guide their way back to our lands and homes._"

"_Oh, that is awful_," said Xristos.

"_Is it? I do not know of it. It is a story of times past. We obey now. The Lords take grain, but they allow us enough to live. And we are allowed to make our songs and live without much fear._" He paused, then was seemingly reminded of something. He said, "_They do give us things. Our ghostly machine was given to us by the Lords for being productive. He is intended to make us more obedient. They also give us light by means of magic. Should we do without them?_"

"_I'd say the pros outweigh the cons,_" Caius said.

"_This is true, but our living is not so difficult as you seem to think_."

There was an awkward silence. Caius seemed certain that their existence was miserable, but they simply did not know any better. Had they tasted freedom, they would be less inclined to give it up. But, as it stood, ignorance was bliss.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hronah who said, "_Fate has cast irony on this conversation. It is time for the Lords to gather our Harvest. I shall deliver it outside and allow them to take it._"

Caius was suddenly very nervous. This Sith were coming here? If he would be found, they would unquestionably be slaughtered. He exclaimed, "_They are coming? We cannot be seen by them! Quickly._"

"_Do not fear. They do not venture inside. And then after dark they remain inside their enclave and we are free to roam once more._"

Hronah disappeared outside, apparently to prepare his harvest. Caius and Xristos exchanged worried looks, and Allie was therefore put on edge. They did not dare tell her what was happening, though. Any unnecessary trauma should be avoided.

Hronah came back inside and told them not to speak for a few moments. They waited patiently, Caius's heart pounding in his chest. Hronah and his family stood at attention, none of them moving. After five eternal minutes, they loosened up and began behaving normally.

Their host sat back down. He said, "_They are gone. You are in no danger._"

Caius had, in the silence, looked around the room. He figured that it would be good to know what time it was the Sith made the rounds through the city. If he knew, perhaps they could avoid them. He saw no means of telling time and asked, "_What time is it that they come?_"

"_It is the same every day. They come only just before we are to begin our evening meal._"

"_How did you know what time it was?_"

"_I do not understand this question. How could I not? We always know what time it is._"

Caius was confused, said, "_You don't have to look at a clock?_"

"_What is a 'clock'? An instrument of time? We have no need of it. What is your race, friend? You have need of apparatus to tell something as natural as the cycle of the glorious day? You are very isolated from life._"

The conversation was straying from its origins. Caius then determined to ask, "_What of these others of our kind? Have you met any of them?_"

"_Not myself. But I have seen them about. It would be a simple matter for you to approach one. Would you like to? Tomorrow is the earliest convenience._"

"_I would, please. If you could help, that would be a tremendous favor._"

"_We have repaid you for your favor to us, but we could do another in exchange for a promise from you._"

"_Certainly._"

"_It shall be arranged. But for now, this trade is over, for the evening meal is upon us. Allow me and my Loved Ones to prepare._"

* * *

As the day dragged on, those who stayed behind at the _Ebon Hawk_ were growing more anxious.

"How long did they say they'd be gone?" Dustil asked.

Bastila answered, "Caius said he had no idea. Xristos told us not to do anything unless they were gone for three days."

"And what then?" Dustil asked.

"I have no idea. But we will have to do something. We'll have to go into the town, I suppose. Who knows what we'd find."

"Well," the young Jedi returned, "I hope we don't have to do that."

"I agree."

They stood in intense silence for a moment. Elliott was off sleeping, which seemed impossible in the dreaded heat, and the droids were powered down to avoid overheating. They were the only ones able to converse, and Dustil had to admit that he didn't really know anything about Bastila.

He decided to ask, "Hey Bastila. What happened in that cave on Korriban?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't remember."

Bastila sat down on one of the chairs that faced the main console in the central briefing room. She said, "You missed visions, mostly. What was yours about?"

"An old friend…someone long dead," he said hesitantly. "What about you?"

"Same thing, Dustil."

"It's hard," he said. "I didn't think I believed Caius when he told me to look out for the visions. But they seemed so real. And I wanted them to be so real…I wanted to change them."

"Me too," Bastila punctuated. She was floating away from the present situation, and she really ended up only putting emphasis on everything that Dustil said.

"Well, anyway," he said, "Thank you for saving me. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

Bastila smiled at him, said, "Of course, Dustil." There was a pause in her speech as she looked away. She turned back and said to him, "You know, your father is really the closest friend I have. I can't tell you how important he was and still is to me and all of our companions."

"So I have heard," Dustil answered. "That isn't why you saved me, is it?"

"No, don't be silly. I saved you because you were in trouble. But it does me good to know that I helped Carth's son. I am glad to repay him for everything he did for me."

"I didn't know he affected you that much," he said. "Well, of course _I'm_ glad you came in to rescue me. And for no other reason than I was a friend in trouble?" He seemed to be thinking for a moment, then said, "You are a true Jedi, Bastila. I'm glad to know one."

Bastila cocked her head and thought on the phrase for a moment. _A true Jedi? Was she?_ She wasn't really sure. For so long she had thought of herself as the true hypocrite for what she had done during the Civil War. This comment, though, somehow brought a lot of peace. She had done just what a Jedi was supposed to do, hadn't she? She had. And now Dustil was telling her.

"Thank you, Dustil," she said, "I needed to hear that."

* * *

The evening meal was interesting.

Considering that there were no chairs in the underground house, they all sat on the ground in a large circle, holding these boards on their right arms and eating with their left. The food was of a strange texture, but as soon as Caius, Xristos, and Allie were brave enough to eat it, they found that it had an altogether agreeable taste.

They learned more of their hosts in that time. The patriarch was named Hillel, the matriarch Shanai, and the wife was Sayia. The child, strangely, did not have a name. Apparently they did not get names until they reached a certain age, and their names all had personal implications. They were specifically chosen based on the characteristics of the person getting the name.

Allie seemed to struggle considering she was the only person who could not communicate, but she would often ask and answer questions through Xristos and Caius, so she contributed enough to be interested. And the alien family found her to be the most interesting, strangely, of all of them. The concept of Jedi and intergalactic war did not really matter to them, they were simply curious how she was able to fix their incredible machine with such seeming ease when they had no idea what was wrong with it. She explained through Caius how they should take care of the droid in order to keep it from getting damaged again.

After the dinner, Hillel told them stories about all sorts of things. Native legends, but he also told them about the other humans on the planet. From what they could gather, there were also Twi'leks. But they had no idea how many of them there were, or how they had gotten there. The only thing they could infer was that somehow the Sith brought them here as prisoners. According to Hronah, that was how all the other races (aside from the Hasan) had gotten to the planet in the first place. Apparently none of them had been capable of intergalactic travel, so they were easily exploited by the Sith.

That also raised questions about the nature of the Sith. How was it that they were the only species in the Unknown Regions that was able to achieve that kind of technology? Caius surmised that, perhaps, they too were strangers to the Unknown Regions. He thought that perhaps they were somehow descended from the original Sith race that was believed to be extinct—driven from the Republic. He had no evidence for this, just a guess.

Caius was distracted from his thoughts when the aliens all started clamoring about something. They all spread apart into a half circle. He and Xristos and Allie followed suit, and found themselves all making an arc around Hronah.

He had gone into another room and emerged with a strange wooden thing. It was shaped somewhat like a pear, but with an elongated, curved stem that was a good two feet long. On the stem were eight tightly wound strings—bunched in four pairs—that ran parallel to each other.

It looked like some kind of musical instrument.

His suspicions were confirmed when Hronah began to pluck at it. He sat on one knee and balanced the instrument on his leg and played it. It made an entirely distinct noise, not like any stringed instrument he had heard before. Hronah was incredibly skilled with it. He had only four fingers—as all of his race did—but was able to play it well nonetheless. He remarked that it would be easier for the humans to do it since they had an extra finger. However, his were much longer, and he was able to play an octave for almost every individual note. The result was that the songs he played were even more difficult than they sounded, and they sounded difficult to begin with.

His family sang with him as he played. What Caius thought was striking, however, was that when they sang they didn't distort their voices. They simply talked the same way they always did, but it fit their poetry perfectly. He thought this explained why they referred to "speaking" as "singing"; to them it was the same thing.

The words were beautiful, and Caius and Xristos desperately wanted to write them down so as not to forget, but the alien language had no written form. They thought about translating, but each time they did so, the beauty in the lyrics was lost.

When the show ended, the three instinctively clapped in applause, and the aliens were confused. It took some time to iron out the details, but apparently signs of admiration in their two cultures turned out to be the exact opposite of each other. Instead of making noise, the aliens held that silence was the utmost form of respect for a skilled performance.

After it was all straightened out, they announced that it was time to sleep, as they had to continue their work the next day.

Caius marveled at the hospitality of his hosts. He wondered why they were doing so much for he and his companions. He realized that they fixed the droid, but that didn't really warrant this kind of cultural experience, did it? It was incredible. _Surely no one_, he thought, _has ever gotten to experience something like this before_. They had total integration into a foreign culture. It had been 20,000 years since anyone in the Republic could have possibly done that. Unless it went undocumented, which was possible because certainly this instance would too. But regardless, the amazing pattern of events served to place him in a state of profound awe. For one night, the entire fate of the universe did not concern him. He was simply in a state of complete and utter tranquility. It was incredible; he had not experienced that kind of feeling since before the Mandalorian Wars.

Their hosts prepared mats for them to sleep on. They laid them out in the middle of their great room and provided these strange, marshmallow-like things for pillows.

The aliens bid them goodnight and then faded into their respective rooms.

The sun orb was then shut off, casting the room into pure darkness.

Caius found his mind would not allow him to sleep. At least not before he thought himself into tiredness. He had to admit, a lot had happened that day, and a little quiet time to process it was welcome.

The strangeness of being on a new planet with new aliens was deteriorating. He was adapting to the concept. What now concerned him was Allie. Whatever the hell had happened earlier in the day with her had thoroughly confused him. How did he feel about her anyway? He didn't rightly know. He had to confess that he had not really thought of her much before today aside from when he was speaking to her. He had regarded her only as an ally, and a bit of a friend, but he realized that he did not talk to her that much. The catalyst for this whole present quandary, however, had been the fault of the Hasan. It was their annoying insistence that he and Allie were married or whatever the hell word they had for it that caused this state of inner questioning. Strangely, he did not find the idea as ridiculous as at first, and accidentally let himself entertain what that would be like.

He caught himself quickly, and then decided to sort it out scientifically. He decided that the pivotal moment had been seeing her in that dress. That was a sight that he had not been expecting at all and had not prepared himself to behold it. It was just too shocking. That was why he had said nothing. He was lucky Xristos did, or else they both would've been sitting there looking like idiots.

This was his scientific explanation. He remembered that, psychologically, there could be an explanation for his sudden realization of Allie's beauty. He hypothesized that she must have looked the same as she always did, but the context of the situation changed everything. She was, in reality, just the same as she always had been. His perceptions changed due to the emotionally charged environment. After all, they were on an alien planet in the middle of hostile territory.

_Yes, that must be it_, he thought to himself. He believed that this would solve all the annoying implications that the incident has raised and he would find the whole situation amusing once they got back to the _Ebon Hawk_.

His mind started to drag as he grew more tired. He was glad to have worked out everything in his mind. However, once he began to sleep, he would've wished that he could be awake and still pondering life as opposed to delving once more into that dream…

* * *

"_He's still alive," said the Dxun officer._

"_How is that possible?" Caius asked him. "Didn't you hear the explosion?"_

"_I did, sir, but the pilot somehow survived the crash."_

_Caius wiped the rain off of his face, only for more to splash onto it a minute later. He asked, "Is he going to live?"_

"_We don't know, sir, the medics are tending to him right now."_

"_Let me see him," Caius ordered._

"_Yes, General, right away. Follow me."_

_He pursued the man into the dark jungle. As it was now progressing towards dusk, it was getting hard to see. Dusk was just a word though; the world was always gray from rain. There were, in fact, only two times of day: Dusk and Night. Wallowing through the awful mud and twisted vines, they eventually made their way to the crash site. It was brighter there. The spacecraft was still smoldering with flames, seemingly unquenched by the torrent of rain._

"_Over here, sir," said the guide._

_Caius stepped over a large log and beheld a terrible sight. There was a man, but he was not whole. He was mutilated._

_This image was haunting to him. He had reacted to it so strongly that he had repressed the image. It was out of his conscious mind. He truly did not, in reality, remember what it had looked like. He only remembered that he hated it._

_He saw the image again. There was a man, bled white, on a makeshift gurney with medics desperately trying to stop his bleeding. His face, somehow familiar, was pale as could be. His dark eyes looked upwards into the unforgiving night sky. Rain fell on his face, but he did not flinch at all when it did. He right leg was shredded. The medics were scrambling to prevent him from bleeding to death and were dressing the wound._

_There were lacerations across the man's chest, another medic tending to those. Caius did not want to look, but could not avoid it. As he watched, the medic ripped the man's dog tags off as they were interfering with his work. He tossed them to the ground._

_Caius did not remember that for some reason._

_He was curious, so he walked over to the tags. He could not remember doing this. But he stooped and picked up the tags. Who was this man who was suffering so terribly? He would have to inform his family if he did not survive. He read the tags and his stomach suddenly leapt into his throat. They said:_

Gallenti, Elliott R.

2924564 RADF

Blood Type: A

Corellia

_Caius's face warped into stupefied shock. This man? He knew this man! He dropped the tags and looked into Elliott's pale face. He seemed to be barely holding onto life, croaking a wheezing cough and staring at nothing, practically unconscious. How did he know this man? He wracked his brain, but he could not think. Somehow he did, but where, when, how?_

An image flashed into his mind from a club on Coruscant.

_What image was that? He looked back at the pilot. One of the medics shouted something and they all braced. Another medic put a towel in Elliott's mouth. The first took a huge saw and then began cutting it into Elliott's severed leg, right below the knee. The pilot was jolted from his catatonic state and shrieked a horrifying wail._

_Caius looked away._

Another image. He saw Elliott, his face colored again, but fake. It was hiding something, knowledge and emotion, from the past. "So," it asked, "where are we going?"

_The medic made another saw through his leg and Caius heard bone splinter._

"I'm Caius Lucullus, if you need a name."

_The saw, with one final, grotesque motion, cut through the mass of flesh resisting it. The gag did not lessen the screaming._

Caius saw a knowing look behind Elliott's eyes. In that bar, on Coruscant, it looked like he knew who he was. It wasn't name recognition. They had met before. And Caius had blocked it out from his mind. Had Elliott?

_He was in the jungle again. The medics were hurrying Elliott away from the crash site. Off to who knows where. The closest hospital was on Onderon. They would get him out of there._

"_Will he survive?" Caius asked one of the medics that had stayed behind._

"_I do not know. The odds are against it."_

_With that, the man then turned and faded away. Caius found himself alone in the dark jungle. There was a smoldering pile of twisted metal to his left, and in front of him was a dismembered limb, bleeding itself dry._

_The image seared again into his memory. Suddenly it all came back. He remembered every detail, down to the tags and the dismembered leg. He opened his mouth to scream, having reached his boiling point on the hellish moon._

Caius shot upwards from the mat on the ground. He was sweating, breathing very hard. He did not know if he shouted in reality or in his dream. It was of no consequence at this point. The horrible memory had come back, and he needed to talk to Elliott about it, the first chance he got back.

He wiped the sweat off of his brow and took two deep breaths. He looked around.

It was morning.


	12. Chapter 11

Author's Notes: Wow, thanks a lot for all of the feedback, people, it means a lot. I'm really glad that a lot of you seemed to like the most recent chapter-I have to admit, it was one of my favorites, too. However...the next chapter really gave me trouble, so I hope that not everyone is disappointed in a drop off in quality. This was probably the hardest one to write so far, I sorta cornered myself. But enough of the apologetics, there's no point in drolling on about it. Thanks again for the feedback and I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Eleven**

The shock from his dream was beginning to wear down, but the implications were still huge. He thought on it for a while, but the more he concentrated, the less real it seemed to get. Caius swore he could now remember those events as they had happened on Dxun, but he could not pin them down. He was starting to doubt that they had happened as he remembered. Perhaps it was just a regular pilot and he had projected Elliott onto him in the dream

But he remembered the name Elliott.

The most confusing detail was that of the amputated leg. Elliott had two legs, but the pilot in his dream had lost one. Surely this was proof of the unreality of the dream. He would go back to the ship and find out it had been a terrible nightmare and nothing more.

He took several more deep breaths, and then really looked around for the first time. Xristos was gone, his mat barren. At the other end of the room, Allie lay in a still, silent sleep. It was much more peaceful looking than Caius's sleep probably had appeared.

Her face was half buried in the pillow, but Caius immediately saw her in that beautiful dress again.

_Damn it_, he thought. _I can't focus at all._ He did not want to think about Elliott or Dxun, every time he did he saw that horrible picture of the dismembered leg. But when he tried to think of something else, he only saw Allie. His mind was playing tricks on him.

He groggily determined to stand up. He did so, and arched his back, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping on the hard ground. As he stretched, he noticed Xristos was standing in a doorway leading to the back of the underground cavern.

"Good morning," said the old man.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Have a bad dream?"

Caius blew air, said, "I wish I could call it that. More like a bad reliving of the past. A dream would be welcome."

Xristos nodded. He opened his mouth, but the words that came out were blown out of the air by the sound of the front door flying open.

Hronah ran inside in great haste, his father right behind him. They slammed the door shut and then bolted it.

The noise jerked Allie from her sleep. She looked up through squinted eyes and confusion, asked, "What was that? What's happening?"

Hillel yelled something, and Caius only barely caught part of it. He picked out the words "_Lords_", "_find_", "_stay_".

Their faces looked, as best he could tell, panicked. He was not sure what to do, so he asked the old patriarch as he worked on the door, "_What is happening?_"

"_The Lords are come. They are unhappy._"

Caius felt a horrible fear settle in. His forehead became cold and warm at the same time with that sensation of terror mixed with helplessness.

"_Hide,_" said the old alien.

Hronah bolted past Xristos into the other room, and the old Jedi followed him. The women and child were in back, and they all took up refuge there.

"_Hide!_" shouted Hillel again. Caius realized that he was standing still. The raised voice he had not heard before, and it dually concerned him.

The Exile leapt from his mat and ran over to Allie. She was still in the middle of waking up, and so was not entirely clear-headed.

There was a loud crash as something slammed into the locked door. Wood splintered and creaked as it hit.

Allie's eyes then widened with fear. Caius grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her off of the ground. In one fluid motion he yanked her up with him. The thud blew out the door again and more wood splintered, little rays of sunlight bleeding through. Caius looked and saw an open closet of some kind with a door on it. He flung himself and Allie inside and pulled it shut.

The sound of the closet door slamming coincided with the blast of wood shattering as the front door was broken open.

Caius backed into a corner in the dark closet and pulled Allie close to him out of instinct. She made a worried noise and he immediately put his hand over her mouth to make sure she said nothing and gave away their precarious hiding place.

The broken panels of the wooden door were thrown to the ground, the hinges ripped from the wall, as one of those atrocious creatures broke in. It was the same kind of awful alien that had harassed them on Korriban, answering any question as to the identity of the race.

Caius could vaguely discern it through several small, horizontal openings in the wooden door. They allowed for visibility from inside out, but not vice versa. He felt his skin crawl as he saw it. His heart was beating dangerously fast, thudding against Allie as he tried to keep her still. His fear manifested in a cold sweat, and he could feel the terror from Allie as well. The sensation was palpable and nauseating.

The Sith approached Hillel, who was innocently standing by himself in the middle of the room. It said something in that hideous language. As he heard it again, Caius realized that it was the language that Darth Nihilus had spoken—a sort of broken, guttural bellowing that sounded like scraping rock.

"_I do not know what you are talking about, your greatness. There is none here but I._"

The Sith pushed the old patriarch and he stumbled backwards but retained his balance. The Sith gurgled. Caius began panicking even more as they shifted closer to the closet, not further than six feet.

He spoke again, said, "_We fulfilled our quota last night. It must be another you are looking for, your greatness._"

The Sith bellowed a disjointed sentence in what sounded like hate in audible form. It shoved the old patriarch again, and out of Caius's limited scope of vision.

It then reached down to its belt and loosened something. A disturbing feeling of ominous inevitability surged through Caius as he watched. It raised its arm towards the patriarch's general direction.

He could not bear to look. He shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. There was a moment of agonizing silence and then a horrifyingly familiar crack. Both he and Allie jumped as they heard it.

Allie screamed. Caius desperately tried to muffle the noise as he covered her mouth. He could say nothing of consolation, he merely hoped that the Sith would not hear them. The abominable creature shifted its movement and was suddenly scouring the room. It walked like a man, but its aura was like a slithering thing, a serpentine demon that sought to consume everything in pure malice.

A shadow cast over the slits in their closet door, and Caius heard the Sith breathing through its veil. He held Allie tightly and they both held their breath for an eternity.

Finally, the creature snorted and then darted out of the room. It hurriedly scampered over the wreckage of the door and out of the dwelling.

Caius was not sure what to do. He stood there in indecision until Hronah appeared within his line of sight. The alien let out a horrible, blasting moan that he had not heard before. The noise was unlike anything they had ever said, and Caius would have thought that such a diametrical contrast to their traditional manner of speech would've been impossible. But the awful noise was real.

Xristos emerged from the hallway. Caius could see him too, a horrified expression twisting on his face.

The Exile hurled the door open, but even he, with all his background in war, could not prepare himself for the grotesque disturbance of the scene.

On the ground lay Hillel the patriarch. He was on his face, his arms and legs sprawled outwards in unnatural directions. There was a massive bullet hole in the side of his head.

It was not bloody, a clean shot. It was no where near as disgusting as things he had seen during the war, but something about it galled him even worse. It was as if actual innocence had been destroyed right in front of him.

Allie fell to her knees and began crying.

He almost wished right then that the whole universe had never existed so as to prevent this one thing from happening. He did not even know what to do aside from just stand there in mere shock. He was paralyzed, immobile, uncomprehending. He just found himself staring at the corpse on the ground, feeling so sick about it that he could just give up living right at that moment.

He too fell to the ground. His legs simply could not hold him up anymore. He hit the ground hard as he had fallen quickly, and then buried his head in his arms, not bearing to look any longer.

Just the day before he had seen the full beauty of life apparent in its simplicity and love, and now this morning he had seen that innocent beauty destroyed.

* * *

"_I am so sorry…_" Caius said to Hronah in distressed, broken version of their language.

The alien did not look at him. In fact, he had hardly moved since it had happened. He merely stared off into nothingness. He said, "_You did not do this._"

"_But it is our fault for being here…I am so sorry…I do not know what I can say._"

"_They were not looking for you_," said Hronah distantly, "_if they knew you were here. You would also be departed_."

"_I do not understand…why did they do this?_"

"_This happens when someone does not meet the quota_."

"_You did not have enough grain for them? Oh, it is our fault—you would not have had to give us any if we were not here._"

The alien still maintained its statuesque form of grief, said, "_It was not us. Another group did not make their required commitment._"

"_But…why do this to you?_"

"_It does not matter to whom it is done—it matters because it is done. Someone fails to meet the quota—a Hasan dies. This is the cycle_."

"_Did he know this would happen when he waited here?_"

"_Once the Lords had come—yes, he was aware. He stayed in the room to sacrifice himself for the rest of our Loved Ones. And for you and your Loved Ones, too."_

_What a noble thing_, Caius thought to himself. That the old patriarch would quickly and decisively embrace death not only to save his family but also three strangers was a selfless act the likes of which he had not seen ever before in his life. Even in the war. Soldiers would give their lives for each other…but they would be at least on the same side. Hillel did not know who they were or what they were doing—he merely saved them because they needed it. They had done _nothing _to earn this grace, but they had gotten it. Another chance. It was somber in its profound implications. He spoke at length, "_We owe him…everything._"

"_It is over_."

"_No, I want you to know how much this means to me. I will do __**anything**__ to help your Loved Ones. Just let me know what to do, please._"

Hronah still stood motionless. He seemed to be thinking about what Caius said. He then spoke, saying, "_There is nothing more to speak. We must prepare for the funeral._"

With that, the now-taciturn alien turned and left the main room. He strode up the steps and out of the home.

Caius sat with Allie and Xristos in the back room of the house. They were still afraid to go outside considering how close they had come to being discovered by the Sith. However, he though it was important to let them know what had happened.

* * *

"They didn't kill him because of us?" Allie asked, timid and disbelieving.

"No," Caius answered, "there didn't know we were here. They simply killed for other reasons."

"It's so awful," she said.

"I know," Caius said, "I feel so…worthless. If I had known, I feel like I should've taken the bullet instead."

Xristos then added philosophically, "Greater love has no one than this. That he laid down his life for his friends…it's incredible. To have such love for people…"

"I think you're right," Caius began, "…but we weren't his friends…he didn't even know us. That's what makes me feel terrible."

Xristos sighed, said, "I know, but there's only two things we can do, Caius. We can go on living in an alternate reality, pretending like this didn't happen, or we can make his sacrifice mean something."

Allie merely nodded in agreement.

Caius closed his eyes and sighed too, said, "You're right." He gathered himself, "but now we _must_ find Revan. We _have _to find the way to destroy these Sith bastards. We cannot fail."

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in oppressive silence. Caius, Xristos, and Allie did not talk to each other at all. They did not leave the house for fear of the Sith spotting them. The aliens spent the rest of the day preparing for the funeral. They had cleaned up the old alien's body and wrapped him in a symbolic body bag and then took him somewhere else. They did not speak either.

Caius and Xristos meditated on what had happened the whole time.

Caius felt like he had to do something to earn this sacrifice. He would have to act. He would have to find Revan, save the Republic, help anyone he ever met. He would make the alien's death mean something. To say that the patriarch giving his life profoundly affected him would be a tragic understatement. He _wanted_ to do something to make it worth it. More than anything. His mind was getting taxed to its breaking point as he now had no shortage of issues to confront. He had to sort out his feelings on Hillel, Allie, and Elliott. It was simply too much. And he could talk to none of them about it…except Allie. No, he didn't even know what the problem with her was to begin with. He would hold off on figuring that out.

Xristos also was dwelling on the sacrifice. He did not take the same legalistic approach to it that Caius did, though. He knew there was nothing he could _do_ that would justify that kind of thing. He would simply have to accept it and try his best to earn it. There was no bar that he had to meet in order to make it count; he just had to face it with honored acceptance.

Allie did not meditate, but that did not mean that she was not engrossed in deep thought. Her incredibly agile and bright mind raced laps around itself as she thought. She was so scatterbrained in terms of thinking that she often thought herself into very long loops. In reality, this was the reason she was generally quiet. An analytic mind in the greatest sense, she would overanalyze almost everything that happened to her in the day. This day was traumatic beyond anything she had experienced in two decades. It was for all of them; at least she thought so. Well, maybe it wasn't. Caius had been in war, and Xristos had…she realized that she knew nothing about Xristos. Perhaps she would ask him. She caught herself as she realized that she had veered off course in her thinking again.

The majority of the day was spent like this. Only near dusk did Hronah speak to them. He told Caius that it was time for the funeral. It would take place outside, amongst the other aliens in the area. He assured them that the Sith never ventured outside in the dark—a contrary notion, to be sure; he wondered why.

"Do you think it's wise to go out there?" Allie asked, in spite of Hronah's assurances.

"There is no way we're not showing up. He died for us and his family—we're going," Caius said bluntly.

Xristos said, "I believe he's right. We must go."

* * *

The funeral was nothing like the ones they had in the Republic.

As Caius emerged from underground—the first time in over a day—he observed what would happen. Hronah then explained it to him.

There was a large bier, yoked to their trusty lizard, with the body on it. There were two others, other Hasan who had apparently met the same fate at the hands of the Sith. A multitude of creatures, of all races, formed a massive horde in the streets around the area. They assembled into a huge throng and, as soon as the primitive wagon made its way into the street, they began to follow it.

Hronah drove the cart. Behind it there was a good deal of space provided by those present. In between the crowd and the back of the cart moved a group of Hasan musicians. They played songs as the procession spilled through the streets. Their instruments were strange, but soothingly pleasant in spite of the nature of the event. Their playing was even better than that of Hronah's, and they brought a wide arrange of foreign instruments to the parade. They played wildly, but within the laws of music. They improvised off of each and spoke back and forth through their instruments. It was, at the same time, a celebration of life, love, and culture whilst a mourning for the deceased. Caius thought it was incredible.

They traveled through the city for almost an hour. Caius mixed in with the crowds of aliens. He, Allie, and Xristos all stuck close together in the throng. He saw all kinds. There were hundreds of Hasan and many of the little fat aliens along with the pale-faced white ones. There were other kinds he had not seen yet. Some were too bizarre for him to really describe.

As the procession neared its end, he saw that they were approaching a sort of earthen amphitheater. The bier went off to the side, and several of the Hasan slid the wooden plank off of the back of the wagon. The carried it to a large pyre in the middle of the arena and set the bier on top of it. The wood was drenched in flammable liquid, and after a moment of ritual silence, they lit the pyre.

Flames flew upwards as the crowds of aliens circled around it. The moved slowly in a large revolution around the bonfire as the fire consumed the bodies of the deceased.

Once they made a full revolution, the crowd dispersed, but did not leave the amphitheater. Instead, they began a celebration of some kind. There was suddenly food and drinks available, the whole place being illuminated by the light of the pyre.

Caius did not want food, and he was a little nervous because he had been separated from Allie and Xristos in the midst of the crowd.

He was nervously walking around, looking for them, when he saw a man in the distance. He assumed it must be Xristos and approached from behind. He said something and tapped him on the shoulder, and was shocked silent when the man turned around.

It was not Xristos.

"_Can I help you?_" he said in the alien language.

Caius stammered, "You're—you're human!"

"I am," said the man. He was middle aged and balding. What remained of his hair was quite gray, although it appeared it had once been red.

"How did you get here?"

"You are asking what? I don't get it. How are you here? You know the Hasan killed?"

"I do…but I mean, how did you get to this planet?"

"I was prisoner after the War," said the man, "that is how all got here. You aren't?" The man's language was fractured. It must have been over a dozen years since he had really spoken it, and Caius could see that it was morphing to the grammar of the alien language.

"I came here by ship two days ago."

The man's eyes widened for a moment and then he narrowed them again, said, "You lie. No one knows this place."

"I need to ask you some questions," Caius said.

"This is not good place—a funeral, man. I want to answer none."

The man looked like he was about to leave, but Caius stopped him, said, "No, please, just a few."

The man turned back around, his face darkened with unhappiness and also with the shadows that the dancing flames cast upon him.

Caius asked, "Do you know any other humans here?"

"There are some—I do not know them."

"Have you ever seen Revan?"

The man's head jolted as he heard the name. He furrowed his brow and said, "Revan! I knew him. You are looking for Revan? Hah! The great Jedi strategist. Was not so great for me! He was fool. I heard of him here."

"Is he here?" Caius asked, trying desperately to hold back his unbridled enthusiasm.

"No, he is not here. Rumor says he was here—I do not believe." Caius knew that this was right, though. After all, the _Ebon Hawk_'s navicomputer told him so.

He asked, "And where was he supposed to go?"

"I do not know. Why ask me?"

"Because you knew he was here!"

"I knew no such of a thing. If Revan were really cared about us, he would go to the _Lords'_ capital world and fight there. But he does not. Rumor said that was his plan, but how do we know?"

"Where is the _Lords'_ world?" Caius asked.

"I do not know," the man answered. "You would have to ask a _Lord_. Good luck with that."

"I can't speak their language…" Caius said quietly.

The man tilted his head, said, "You cannot? All slaves must learn it—it's that or we won't survive."

Caius thought for a second then said, "Excuse me for a moment." The man was about to ask why, but Caius interrupted him and reached into his brain. The man's face betrayed a strange expression, unsure what was happening to him. Caius forced him to speak a word of the Sith language and then stole it through the Force. When Caius was satisfied that he learned the Sith language, he let go.

The man looked wide-eyed for a moment, then crinkled his nose in thought. Suddenly, his face exploded with brightness and hope, said, "You Jedi!"

"Quiet!" Caius urged him.

"You must help us!" the man begged, said, "please…thirteen years I've been here. Please, help us!"

"I will, but I need to find Revan," Caius said, trying to bring the conversation back to what he needed.

"Yes, yes, Revan. The rumors were that he was here for a while. I think…I think I saw him. He was supposed to fight a Lord—named Severus. But we know not what has happened. Revan vanished, but never found. Severus is still alive. But he left, he is supposed to be going to _Lords'_ homeworld. That is what the few were told…I _saw _him!"

"And the only way to find out where that is…I have to ask one of them?"

"Yes, none of the others would know—these aliens cannot fly like we can."

"How would I ask one?" he asked.

"After _Lords_ gather up offerings before dusk, they hurry back to their enclave. Some of them stop to drink outside. They fight and sometimes they die. You could jump one and ask him and kill him. They would never look into it if you made it look good."

_Oh damn_, Caius thought to himself. _How would I do that? No matter, I'll cross that bridge when I get there_. He said to the man, "Thank you. I will try to do this. If I can find him, we'll be able to help."

The man said, "Thank you thank you, Jedi."

Caius said, "But you must never speak of this. You open your mouth and say one word about it, we won't be able to help you."

"Right, yes—man," the stranger said.

Although it pained Caius to do it, he would have to block the man's memory. He reached out with the Force and removed the last fifteen minutes from his mind, making sure he could not divulge what had happened.

He then left to find Xristos and Allie. He had regretted that the man found out he was a Jedi, but he knew there was really no working around it.

He scoured the crowd, floating through the dark (and tolerably warm) night looking for his friends. He saw every kind of alien imaginable—even a Twi'lek—before he spotted them.

They were sitting next to each other on a dirt step, one of the levels of the theater. They seemed to be talking to each other amiably as he approached.

He heard Xristos say, "Well, that's how I feel about it, but it's really up to you."

"What is?" Caius asked, blatantly intruding.

"Nothing," Xristos said, "Allie just wanted to know if I thought she should apply a certain upgrade to T3 that might make him more eccentric."

"Well, I hardly thought he could get more eccentric," Caius said. There was a subtle tell on the old man's face. If Caius had been more perceptive, or less affected by the day's events, he might have been able to tell that he was lying. But as it stood, he did not notice.

"Well, I'll see," Allie said. Both she and Xristos stood up and formed a triangle with Caius.

The Exile shrugged and said, "I guess we wait for the funeral to end and then we go back to the house."

"Do you have a plan now?" Allie asked.

"As a matter of fact," Caius said, "I do."

* * *

"You really think that's a good idea?" posited Allie, disbelieving.

"No. But I don't think we have another option," returned Caius.

They had returned to the house late at night. Their alien hosts went to bed immediately, leaving the three humans in the main room with the lights out. Caius could only hear their voices, crawling out of the darkness, and determine their general direction.

"What, exactly, do you think you're going to do?" Xristos asked.

Caius cleared his throat, said, "Well, I don't exactly know. I just have to watch these Sith until one of them is in a vulnerable position—or by himself. If I can isolate one, then I can try to get him to tell me which planet is the Sith homeworld. All we need is a name—we have all the coordinates in our computer. We just need to know which one to go to."

"And what if he won't tell you?" Allie asked.

"Then I kill him."

"I thought you were going to do that if he _does_ tell you."

"I am. But the Sith won't know that."

Xristos sighed, said, "You don't have much leverage then. Suppose he realizes that you will do nothing but kill him and you can't get any information?"

Caius shrugged, though no one could see it, said, "Then we'll just have to start planet hopping until we arrive at the right place. Though it could take months."

"That is also dangerous—they'd easily figure out who we are if we did that," Xristos answered.

"Then I guess I can't fail now," Caius said flatly.

"I don't like this," Xristos said.

The Exile countered, "Look, there isn't another way that I can conceive of. It's this, or we sit on our hands."

"I see you are committed. Right, let's get some sleep then."

The three people blindly fumbled through the darkness to find their mats and lie down. It took Caius a minute or two to do it, and once he laid to rest his mind began racing again. He was accustomed now to doing this before he slept. It would take him at least an hour to fall asleep every night.

Tonight was starkly different than the night before. Yesterday he had fallen to sleep thinking about those people around him and had had a terrifying dream. Today he had woken up and seen something worse. Now he had even more things taxing his mind. There was Elliott, Allie, the Sith and Revan, and Hillel. He was still solemnly obsessed with the old patriarch's sacrifice. One of the reasons he wanted to go threaten the Sith, though he did not say this, was because he wanted to beat the living hell out of one of them. He wanted to make them suffer. He realized that this was a vehicle through which the Dark Side can corrupt, but he didn't care. He was not a Jedi, so why would he worry about the Dark Side? He was a nothing—a gray. And he hated the Sith. He was allied with the Jedi by necessity, but he still was not one. Why, then, should he follow their rules? He considering all the things they kept him from doing. He would murder a Sith, allow his hate to control him.

No, he caught himself. Maybe he should not reject the Jedi values. Even though he was not a Jedi…that did not make the Jedi incorrect, did it? Maybe they had wronged him, but their mores perhaps were still the best way to live. _Screw it_, he thought, _I'm killing a Sith. I'll evaluate their morals after._ He thought longer, and then said almost unconsciously, _Force—grant me self-control…but not yet._

With those fading thoughts he did succumb to sleep. If one could objectively analyze his mind, one would conclude that, from these thoughts, Caius was and always would be a Jedi. It was as Kreia had said, "His stance, his walk" were of the Jedi. No matter how hard he insisted otherwise, he was still one. It was not something that could just be taken. His entire life he had been groomed to be one, how could he stop? Even when the Force was taken he was still a Jedi.

* * *

The morning came and went quickly. Caius insisted that Allie and Xristos ride back to the _Ebon Hawk_ with Hronah during his morning round. They would need to tell Bastila what had happened, and they would have to be far away just in case something happened to him. He did not want them compromised.

The time came for them to depart, and Caius gave them a somewhat grave goodbye, though he tried to mask it with insistence that he would be all right. Both Xristos and Allie hugged him as they loaded onto the wagon, somewhat startling the grizzled Exile. They exchanged a few words, and Caius again assured them that he would be fine.

When they left, he found himself in a rather odd position. Now he was alone in a sea of the aliens, completely isolated from humanity and the Republic. He was also alone in the house. All the Hasan family had gone out to the fields to continue their work. There was no time for grief for them, they had to fulfill the Sith's quota.

Slowly, the time passed. Eventually the Hasan returned, and Caius waited for their grain to be taken by the Sith overlords. Once this happened, he allowed a half hour of time to slip by, and then he bade his hosts farewell and left the dwelling. He would make his way to one of the infamous drinking holes in the city.

* * *

Allie and Xristos had taken a long time to get back to the _Hawk_. The heat—previously not a factor due to the underground house—came back and assaulted them full force. They rode the cart in silence, journeying back to the original meeting point—the canyon gorge in the sea of the field.

They tearfully bade Hronah goodbye as they disembarked. They watched him fade into the distance on his wagon, dragged along by that scary but altogether friendly lizard.

The journey was difficult in the heat, but eventually they made it. Allie seemed to have more difficulty because she could not focus or heal herself with the Force. Though it didn't do that much, Xristos could be re-energized by it and it helped him. By the time they made to the _Hawk_, it was past noon and they were hungry.

Bastila greeted them excitedly, but then with confusion.

"Where is Caius?" she asked.

Xristos explained the situation.

"I do not approve of his plan," Bastila said. "I wish he would've consulted me first."

"There was no way to do that, Bastila," Xristos said.

"Then…" she drifted off, "we must merely pray for his survival."

Xristos nodded, said, "He told me to tell you that if he was not back by tomorrow, that we should leave the planet without him."

Bastila nodded grimly, "Let's hope not."

Everyone filed out of the room. Dustil followed Xristos to ask him about the aliens, and Elliott was off somewhere else. Allie cautiously approached Bastila and said, "Bastila…can I ask you something?"

Bastila nodded and the two women retreated to their dorms as well.

* * *

The strange pub-like bar was right in front of him.

Caius had followed Hronah's advice and taken the route the alien had prescribed to him. The planet's white-hot sun was setting, and darkness was beginning to fall. It was still very hot. Caius noticed that the closer he got to the bar, the fewer aliens he could find. Once he got within one hundred yards of the place they had disappeared entirely.

He crept along a back alley, ducking and scurrying behind anything he could find in order to remain out of sight. He approached the back of the bar and sidled around its corner and wall. There was a modest flight of stairs that led up a few flights to the top of the building (most of the structures on the planet seemed to have access to the roof from the outside). He treaded as softly as possible on the hardened dirt that was ground and crouched at the corner. He could hear voices.

Those despicable Sith voices. Their filthy, garbage disposal language was slurred even worse than normal as they appeared to be drunk. Whatever planet this was, it appeared to have alcohol. In another situation, Caius would have found this funny—the two main constants he had discovered in the universe was the Force and alcohol—but he did not at the time. He waited patiently, unsure what action to take.

The Sith continued garbling, drinking heavily and yelling at each other. Though he could understand their language, he still felt as though he could not really interpret what they were saying. One seemed to be insulting another one, and they soon started coming to blows, just as he had been told they would. He stole a very quick glance around the corner to see that there were six Sith outside the bar. Perhaps there were more inside. His vision was, however, distracted by the sight of the Sith enclave in the center of the area. It was not tall, as he had not seen it before, but it was certainly noticeable. It was a large, obsidian rock looking thing. It was surrounded by a ten foot tall fence with barbed wire around it. Gates appeared to be guarded. The obsidian stone in the middle looked very strangely organic, and he had no idea what its function was—but it could be assumed it was their headquarters.

There was a loud noise as one of the Sith punched another in the stomach.

Caius thought quickly, and decided that a diversion would be his best bet. He reached out to the Force and used it to topple a bin on the top of a building across the street. It rolled perfectly and fell to the ground, letting all sorts of hard objects fall with it. The Sith outside reacted to it immediately, thinking that it was an alien that needed to be punished. Several of them immediately ran over across the street and behind a large crate. Caius observed them run awkwardly as they were intoxicated.

He peered around the corner again and saw one severely drunk Sith leaning against the wall of the bar by itself. It was the perfect target. It looked like it was trying to move, but could not due to its inebriated state. Its movements were strange, as though a puppeteer was operating its body. Its motions were technically correct, but seemed to be somehow less than right. It turned and faced away from his corner as it tried to steady itself against a wall.

Immediately Caius grabbed its throat with the Force. It instantly grasped its neck and made a gurgling noise, but Caius allowed it no time. He reached out again and pulled it towards him. It looked as though he had yanked it backwards with an invisible lasso as its feet lifted off the ground and it came catapulting at him and crashing right at his feet. The creature rolled over, still struggling for air, and Caius grabbed it by its arm. He noticed that it wasn't wearing that veil that they seemed to always have on. Probably it took it off in order to drink.

He lugged the creature up the stairs to the top of the building, crouching so as to avoid notice from the Sith across the street. His captive was still croaking for air as Caius dragged it, its head knocking against the crude stairs and its legs thrashing about the ground. Just as they reached the top of the third floor, Caius picked up the creature and threw it several feet in front of him. It smashed into the earthen roof and rolled. Caius loosened his grip on its throat just enough for it to get one breath of air to sustain it a while longer. He walked over to the thing and looked at its face.

This was the first time he had really seen one.

It's ugliness was so profoundly disgusting that he could scarcely look at it. There were some things that were so ugly one _had _to look to believe it, and there were some things that were so ugly that looking but once would be mistake that would engender lifelong haunting. This creature was of the latter category.

_It's as ugly as Allie is pretty_, he thought. _Wait…_

He brushed those thoughts away, for he was suddenly reminded of his intense hatred. He knew, deep down, that this was not the Sith that had shot Hillel, but it didn't matter. Just as they had killed a Hasan that did not deserve it, he would kill a Sith that did not "deserve" it. Before even speaking he let his right fist fly and landed a vicious blow across the Sith's face. It could not scream or say anything as its breath was being denied it, so the only noise was that of a bone-crunching thud as Caius's massive blow had fractured part of its skull.

It still writhed on the ground. Caius relieved it from the Force Choke, but no sooner had he let it go than he was on top of the creature with his own hands, once again strangling it. The Sith looked up at him with sickly yellow eyes. It was so intoxicated that it couldn't actually figure out if it should be afraid or not. It just tried to breath.

Caius loosened his grip and asked in their language, "_Where is your homeworld_?"

The Sith just gurgled and gasped, not answering. Caius slapped it and asked again, "_Where is your homeworld?_"

He was lucky that the Sith was drunk. Had it been sober, it probably wouldn't have told him anything, but since it was intoxicated it could not comprehend what was happening. It choked and told him what he wanted to know.

"_Malacandra,_" it whispered in that awful language.

"_Malacandra?_" Caius asked, confirming the answer

The alien choked and coughed again. Caius thought he had enough information, they could use the Korriban map to find this planet. But now he would let his hatred fly. He tapped into the Dark Side, something he had not done since the Mandalorian Wars. He let the Force strangle the creature as he began to whale on its head. He landed half a dozen punches on it, all the forcing his knee into its chest. His vision was hazy and clouded and he could not even tell if it was still alive—though common sense would say that it had long since expired.

His fist grew raw as he continued beating the corpse. When he was satisfied that he had unleashed enough anger on the creature, he ripped it off of the ground by its shoulders. He ran it towards the edge of the building and then heaved it over the edge. Its limp body went careening through the air, limbs flailing wildly, before it hit the ground with a disturbing crunch.

There was a shrill shriek from the ground below as another Sith saw the dead carcass, and Caius was brought back to present reality. He gathered his wits and turned to flee. He called the Force again and used it to propel himself through the air as he jumped across an alley onto another rooftop. He broke into a full sprint and repeated the process until he was a third of a mile away from the bar.

Once he had put sufficient distance between himself and the bar, he climbed down one of the structures and resumed a brisk walk through the not-so-crowded streets on his way back to Hronah's dwelling.

* * *

He arrived close to midnight.

The night's sleep was easier to achieve this time as he had tired himself out through the day. As soon as he had lain down on the now-familiar mat he fell deeply asleep. No thinking, no pondering, nothing.

The night passed in an instant and he awoke without any outside help.

He ate a solemn breakfast with his host family and then they prepared to go out in the fields to work. Outside the house, in the corral, Caius bade sad goodbyes to the matriarch and Hronah's wife. The little child was still asleep. He thanked them for everything and apologized profusely for everything that had happened, telling them he would do everything within his power to help them out.

After a few minutes he leapt into the back of Hronah's cart and they departed.

They did not talk until they made it out of the city. It took a good half hour for the trip to be completed, and Hronah stopped the cart where he had first met the humans what seemed like an eternity ago.

Caius jumped out of the back, sweating tremendously in the heat, and turned to look at Hronah. The alien too had dismounted his dinosaur and they stood, facing each other, for a few awkward moments.

"_This is…farewell,_" said Hronah.

"_It is,_" Caius said. "_Thank you, so much, for everything. You kept us safe and helped us and told us what to do. We could not have done this without you. My purest and deepest thanks and condolences go out to you and your Loved Ones_."

"_It is part of the great cycle to help those in need. And thank you for fixing our ghostly machine and for telling us of your story and homeland. We are truly unique to have borne witness_."

Caius didn't answer immediately, just stared at the alien with uncertainty,

Hronah spoke, said, "_How do you say 'farewell forever' in your country?_"

"_With an embrace,_" Caius answered.

To his surprise, Hronah said, "_That is what we do._"

In an unprecedented display of interplanetary peace and harmony, Caius and Hronah threw their arms around each other and said goodbye.

Caius took a step back and said again, "_Thank you, Hronah. Goodbye and farewell_."

The alien repeated the phrase. He then mounted his lizard and began his journey further towards his land.

Caius held his hand up in the air, a still wave, until the cart was out of sight. He sighed and then turned, following the little pathway to the steep trail into the gorge. He stumbled down it and arrived at the base of that mutilated tree. He stopped and faced it. Its gaping mouth was still in that perpetual howl, still screaming within the tree. He looked at it solemnly, trying to attach a meaning to it.

Eventually he gathered his breath and turned, making his way slowly through the blisteringly hot canyon and back to the _Ebon Hawk_.


	13. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: Whoopdeedo, here's the next one. You know the drill. Thanks for the feedback, guys. Oh, and for anyone interested, I published a silly/stupid short parody just last week called "The Sub Nazi". Because this story was getting somewhat depressing, I wanted something to lighten the mood. If you so desire, you could find it through my profile. Be warned, it's pretty idiotic, but it was fun. There, that ends the shameless plug. :P

**Chapter Twelve**

The rest of the crew was overjoyed and relieved when Caius returned to the _Hawk_. Bastila, Dustil, and Elliott were equally glad for his safety as they were for the possibility of leaving the planet. The heat had driven them to near insanity.

Before they could even determine the next course of action, Bastila demanded that Elliott lift off. They would go into orbit around the planet and power down to avoid using fuel. She made it clear that she intended to leave the place behind as soon as possible. While she, Dustil, and Elliott were excited to leave, Caius, Xristos, and Allie demonstrated a considerable amount of hesitation. They had seen a lot, and they felt like this planet was a part of them. At least, they were dramatically affected by it. It seemed like it could've once been a paradisiacal abode, but that it had been corrupted and enslaved by malicious outside forces. The planet was a living tragedy—if only it could've been prevented. Caius realized that he did not even know the name of the planet, so when they activated the navicomputer he translated the Sith language (which he could now read) name for the planet. It was _Scythia_.

"So," Bastila began as they activated the massive, three dimensional map in the central briefing room, "where do we go now?"

All eight members of the crew had assembled around the projected image.

Caius spoke, "The Sith said that their homeworld was called _Malacandra_. I'd say we go there. Call it a hunch, but I'd bet this ship that Revan is there."

The atmosphere was pleasantly cool. Though Caius was sad to leave the planet behind, he could not help but appreciate the more agreeable climate.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" Dustil asked, "I mean, go straight to the Sith homeworld? How do we even know we could hide there?"

"We don't," Caius said, "but we don't know what to do in the meantime either. I'd rather ponder our options closer to our objective."

The discussion then devolved into a myriad of different debates. Bastila and Dustil argued about what to do, Xristos and Allie watched. Elliott moved to go sit down in one of the available seats.

"I don't think we should go straight into the heart of the Sith Empire!" Bastila said dubiously.

"Is there really much of an option?" Dustil asked. "We've come all this way, looking for Revan, it seems obvious to me that this is where he'd be."

Bastila shook her head, "I know that he'd probably _be_ there, but shouldn't we try to do this…realistically? We can't just go charging into the Sith homeworld, we'll trigger interstellar war."

"Do you have an alternative?" Xristos asked.

"Well…no," she admitted, "but I'm simply concerned that this is a bad idea. Just because I can't think of an alternative does not mean there isn't one."

"That's true," Xristos said, "but if none of us can come up with an alternative, then our decision is pretty much set."

"We could always go back if we had to…" Allie said cautiously.

Everyone seemed to wince somewhat at the statement—sure, it was correct, and reasonable, but no one wanted to have to turn around mid-mission after already going through everything that they had.

"We've come too far to go back," Dustil said, shrugging.

"I agree," said Caius. "We can't just stop now."

"I don't mean that," said Allie, "I mean…can't we survey the Sith world from the sky? If it's a city place like Coruscant than we wouldn't be able to land, then maybe we should go back. If it's more like the last planet…then we could sneak in."

"I agree," Xristos said approvingly, "that sounds like a reasonable idea. I doubt that a little ship like this one would raise any alarms…even _if_ someone saw us."

"If it's the capital world," Bastila began, "is it not reasonable to believe that it will be well defended? What if there's a blockade or something? Even if it was hospitable to land…we'd have to get through without being spotted."

Caius turned to the sitting pilot, asked, "Hey Elliott…what if there's a blockade?"

The mercenary smirked amusedly, said, "I can run any blockade. Besides, the Jedi outfitted this ship with a top-of-the-line cloaking device. We're practically invisible. Hell, there are so many gadgets on this ship that I can't keep them all straight."

"I think that's the plan, then," Caius said. "We are rather limited on options."

"I don't like it," Bastila said bluntly, "but I can see you're right, we don't have much choice."

Once the situation had finally been resolved the ship launched into the familiar nether-realm of hyperspace. The crew dispersed once again, each to their own devices as they awaited the oncoming discovery. This was the pinnacle of their endeavor—they had found the Sith homeworld, and now they were going straight for it. The notion had everyone a bit on edge. The Jedi meditated in silence. Elliott focused on piloting. Allie was left with no one to talk to, so she resigned to tinkering with all the machinery—droid or otherwise—on the ship.

As the time passed, Caius decided that he needed to speak to Elliott. He had waited until everyone else had gone so that there would be no eavesdropping during the conversation.

He strode casually into the cockpit, fully cloaked in his gray robes. Elliott, facing out the viewport, said simply, "Hey boss."

Caius muttered an inconsequential greeting and sat down at the co-pilot's seat.

Elliott spoke again shortly, said, "You sure took long enough on that planet. The heat there was absurd, I just about thought I'd died and went to hell."

"Yeah, it took longer than expected," Caius answered, "we saw a lot of unusual things."

"Weird aliens?" he asked.

"Yes, and other things," Caius answered ambiguously. "You know," he continued, "I had a strange dream too."

"How interesting," Elliott muttered sarcastically.

Caius turned to face him, but the pilot was still looking out the viewport into the blue kaleidoscope. He asked, "So, what was it you were doing before you became a mercenary?"

Elliott's face betrayed mild surprise and he turned to meet Caius's gaze, said, "What does that have to do with your dream?"

"Just curious is all," he answered innocently.

"It doesn't matter. I've always been a pilot, and it's all I'll ever be. Smuggler, blockade runner, hired gun—it's all the same. I'm a pilot through and through. That answer your question?"

Caius weighed his options, said, "Yes and no. Did you ever fly for any banner?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I mean militarily—for the Republic. Or maybe the Sith."

"I never fought for the Sith," Elliott said defensively, somewhat offended.

Caius thought for a second and then said, "What about the Republic?"

"What difference does it make?"

"Did you? Because I served in the Mandalorian Wars, and I think I remember—"

Elliott interrupted, "I don't want to talk about the war."

"You served then?"

Elliott seethed and gave Caius a very long and spiteful look. He said at length, elongating all his words, "I don't want to talk about it."

Caius went on, undeterred, said, "Because I remember about a year into it…"

"You still talking about that damn war?"

He tilted his head, "Maybe. I was just curious about your past is all. I don't really know that much about you or any of the other crew members for that matter."

"Yeah, well, don't ask about the war," Elliott said flatly, his voice raising.

"So you did serve," Caius said as more of a statement than anything. Elliott, however, was not pleased.

"_You're damn right I did!_" he exploded.

Caius was taken aback by the ferocity of his response, he nervously looked out the hall to see if anyone was nearby to hear it.

"That's what you wanted to hear, huh, Jedi-man? That I fought in that damn stupid war? That I lost everything? Well, _there_ you go. I _did_."

Caius swallowed and then said, "I remember, you know. I saw you crash on Dxun."

Elliott blew up again, said, "What the _hell_ are you trying to do? Huh? You going to try to soothe my wounds with some sort of half-assed Jedi witchcraft? You want to heal my soul or something? I don't need your damn help! You want to do something? Why not use your magical powers to grow my fucking _leg_ back!"

The Exile instinctively looked down at Elliott's leg. It was there all right, concealed underneath his clothes.

As if to answer his question, Elliott forcefully tapped the side of his calf, causing a metallic thud to resound through the fabric. "Prosthetic," he said bluntly, but with force behind the middle of the word.

The small diversion did not, however, stop his tirade. He continued onwards, his eyes wild and nostrils flared, "Why the hell did you keep asking about the damn war? I _said_ I don't want to talk about it."

Caius knew he could not get into a lengthy argument with the man, especially when he was in a frazzled state like this. He said in a submissive fashion, "Because I was there too."

"If you were there, then you'd _know_ why I don't want to talk about it."

"All too well."

"Then _why_ ask me?"

Caius sighed, said, "Ignoring it got me nowhere."

The words were said somewhat rhetorically, and they quieted the atmosphere, throwing a blanket of silence on the two men. Elliott seemed to be in deep thought, then said distantly, "I lost everything."

He looked back at Caius, but the Exile said nothing. He merely stared into the pilot's dark brown, nearly black eyes. Elliott elaborated, "It wasn't just my leg. It was my whole life." He blew out his nose and continued, "I lost my leg in the war. I lost my job due to disability when I got back. I could only get work as a merc pilot and the income wasn't stable. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder threw me into panic fits constantly. My fiancé left me. I told you, everything."

Caius wanted to ask about the fiancé—that sounded so very…unlike Elliott.

The pilot seemed to read his mind again, said, "Yes, I once had a woman. Just one. We were going to marry before the war. I came back half of a person and she couldn't handle it. She wanted nothing to do with medical bills due to mental and physical injury. She just up and left, never told me why, even though I knew. What am I supposed to do then, huh, Jedi-man? There's only one thing you can do: drink."

Now it all made sense. Caius felt such a fool for stigmatizing his pilot as a superficial idiot all this time. The man's life was a charade. All of it seemed an elaborate diversion.

"Women don't want anything to do with mental wrecks, damn it. No one would want anything to do with a legless, neurotic war veteran. There only women in my life are those two-credit whores you can find in cantinas. My money from these damn inconsistent paychecks goes to alcohol and cigarettes—and medication." He let out a deep breath as if he had finished a long speech. He said, "Happy now, Jedi-man?"

"You're awfully…aware…of your situation," Caius said pitifully.

"Only a moron can't admit addiction. I know why I am this way, and it's because of bloody damn war. So when I ask you not to talk about it, you damn well better listen, because no one wants to remember what ruined their life."

Caius thought about this; Elliott was right. He rued the day he lost his connection to the Force. He hated remembering that day. He felt nauseated just thinking about it. Though the pain had largely subsided, the memory of the agony he had gone through was enough of a searing reminder of how much he hated it. His loss that day had been tremendous. He had lost his connection to the Force and he had to answer for all the Jedi that perished. One in particular wounded him—his best friend from the academy, Marcus Celer, had died at Malachor as well, the ship he was on having gone down during the activation of the Mass Shadow Generator.

As if on cue, Elliott began grilling him. He said, "You want to ask me all those personal questions, huh? What about you? You always say you're not a Jedi, but you never say why. And you said you fought in the way, but I never asked you any damn stupid questions about it. Isn't that unfair? How about it? What's your story, _Exile_?"

Caius breathed out very slowly. He had forgotten that no one knew of his past in this crew. He was used to everyone being familiar with his situation. He said, "I already told you…I was exiled from the Order."

"For what?" Elliott asked.

"For insubordination. I violated the decisions made by the High Council and willingly defied them. In short—it was because of the war."

"They exiled you for defending the Republic?" asked Elliott doubtfully.

"Yes," Caius answered, "and I thought it was just as idiotic as you do. I was the only Jedi that came back—the _only_ one that did not 'fall to the Dark Side'. I came back because I did not know any other way of life, you cannot easily stop being a Jedi. You can stop being one in name, but not in deed. So I returned. And then…they banished me."

Elliott said, "That's unfortunate. Why are you working with them, then?"

"Because I need their help—and the Jedi are still a necessary thing. They're an ideal. The High Council failed, but they still have important things to do. I need their help to find Revan and save the Republic. And I need them to help heal me."

"Heal you?" Elliott asked, confused.

"Damn," Caius said, "I forgot you didn't know." He took a deep breath, said, "All right. You talked about losing everything—well, so did I. Are you familiar with Malachor V?"

"That was the last battle of the war," Elliott answered.

"Right—I was there. Though I was only a Major General at the time, I had the final decision on that battle because that's what Revan wanted. It was up to me to use the Mass Shadow Generator…"

"What was that, anyway?"

"A super-weapon. Something that I hope is never used ever again in the field of battle. I don't pretend to know how it worked, but it screwed with physics. It affected the gravitational force of the planet and destroyed everything within its event horizon. It was a monumental global crush—thousands upon thousands of our enemies and allies were killed instantly…because I ordered it…"

Elliott had not apparently expected this, merely nodded.

"I didn't even realize what I had done at the time, but it was an awful thing," said Caius. "My best friend, a Jedi named Marcus, was killed then." He started drifting into his thoughts, said, "I remember the last time I spoke to him…it was right before he disembarked from my ship—he said the war was ending, soon all the Mandalorians would be dead…and soon we could all go home…but he never came back." He sighed, "So many didn't come back."

"But you were just following orders," Elliott offered.

"Does that excuse it? The most heinous deeds in history have been committed by normal people who were 'following orders'. That is the banality of evil. I wish I had not ordered it."

"If you hadn't, someone else probably would have," said Elliott.

"Maybe…" Caius said. "I had another friend who was there, too. He was an engineer named Bao-Dur. He made the device. He was the only one who really understood what I meant by this. And the anguish that comes with it. But he was killed just a little while ago." Caius stopped for a moment, realizing how much he really did miss Bao-Dur's company. He continued, "That's why I brought it up. I was wondering if you knew too."

"Well…I'm sorry, but I don't. I don't understand. And what did you mean by getting 'healed'?"

Caius hesitated before answering, said, "A Jedi can feel life through the Force—through bonds. I was always good at forming bonds with people, they'd spring up everywhere. But when Malachor was crushed, there was so much loss of life that it filled me. I was dying through the Force. Without even realizing it, I had to cut myself off from it."

"How is that possible?" Elliott asked. "What would that be like?"

"It's like losing a sense—but more. Imagine losing your senses of sight, sound, and touch all at once. That's how it was."

"That is…how do you live with this?"

"You get used to it—just like blind men can adapt to being blind."

"Well," Elliott said, "now we both know about each other. We're not so different, are we?"

Caius looked at him stoically. The pilot was right—they were not as different as he had thought they were. But the talk of the war was depressing him, too. He regretted bringing it up, though he knew he had to at least try and see if Elliott could understand like Bao-Dur had. His thoughts were interrupted by the pilot, who said, "Talk about something else. I want to forget the war."

Caius stuttered, said, "Uh, all right." He thought for a moment, "like what?"

"I don't know," Elliott said impatiently. "Just distract me."

"With what?" Caius then thought about who he was talking to. What would really distract Elliott? Women. He then said with an almost miraculous stupidity a one-word sentence: "Bastila."

Elliott looked at him oddly. He then said, "Yes?"

"She's a woman," Caius said.

"And you're a genius," Elliott responded. "How'd you know?"

"I figured this would be distracting enough. You manage to woo her into leaving the Jedi Order yet?"

Elliott seemed to have his pride hurt by this and said flatly, "No."

"Well, then I guess there won't be any romantic tension on this trip," Caius said rather thankfully.

"Except you and Allie," Elliott said, oblivious.

"What?" Caius asked loudly.

"What do you mean 'what'? You playing dumb?"

Caius felt his eye twitch, he said, "What the hell is this? First those aliens and now you too? Who else thinks this?"

"I don't know," Elliott shrugged. "All I know is that Allie seems to have a thing for you. I overheard her mention it to Bastila." He put his hand on his chin, said, "Funny that she'd ask Bastila for advice. That girl couldn't romance her way out of a paper bag."

Caius was stunned. _How is this possible?_ He thought to himself. Why would Allie be attracted to _him_? He didn't want anything to do with any woman. He was too long ingrained by the Jedi into permanent bachelorhood. There was no way he could suddenly change all that. And besides…_Allie?_

He noticed that Elliott was merely staring at him, waiting for a response. The conversation about the war had faded from his mind. _Allie?_ he thought to himself again. He, at length, said to Elliott, "There's nothing…"

"Sure, you can say that." He smirked somewhat, said, "It's too bad you couldn't get Bastila. She's much more attractive."

Caius said without thinking, "You didn't see Allie in that dress."

Elliott titled his head and said, "Wow, you can't say something like that and expect me to believe that there's 'nothing'."

"That's not what I mean," Caius said, flustered, "the aliens we saw gave her a dress and Xristos and I saw how attractive she really is. That's it. There's nothing."

"Well, whatever," Elliott said. "If she's really that good looking you should go for her."

"I don't want to," he said indignantly, almost like a child who insists that he _doesn't_ like that girl in class.

"Why not? You said yourself that you're not a Jedi. There's no reason."

"Aside from the fact that I don't want to tie myself down to anyone, then I guess there's no reason."

"Sounds like you have relationship issues. The government should investigate the Jedi for what they do to you all when you're kids. I mean, you and Bastila are hilarious."

"I resent that."

"Then stop being so hilarious. I wouldn't laugh if you two acted less…stupid."

Caius wanted to insult the man. All the barbed words he mustered sounded good in his head, but he could not commit them to verbal language. He merely stumbled and said lamely, "Whatever."

The whole conversation was souring him. Yes, he thought that Allie was very pretty, but that was it. The fact that the alien family had insisted otherwise was bad enough, but now that Elliott agreed with them it was even more annoying. He did not go on this excursion to have this happen. Getting involved with any woman was not something high on his list of priorities. Especially after his tour looking for the Jedi Masters. The two women that seemingly fell all over themselves whenever he was around had grated on his nerves more than anything. Sure, the Echani girl had been nice, but she was aloof and had a very bland personality. Visas was even weirder—she was disturbingly possessive of him for reasons that he never actually could understand. Why they had followed him he could never figure out.

This was only a _little_ different. He admitted that Allie was very beautiful, but that was it. _It's only a superficial attraction_, he thought. Then caught himself.

_Damn it,_ he thought.

He was attracted to Allie. _So what? _He thought. He reasoned that it would be rather unmanly of him _not_ to be physically attracted to her. But of course he would just ignore it and go on as if nothing were the matter.

He resumed speaking when Elliott said, "I guess you have nothing to defend yourself with."

"I'll admit that she's good looking," Caius said. "But that's it. I want nothing to do with any woman."

"All _right_," Elliott said, shrugging, "forget I mentioned it. But still, that's a weird outlook. I'm betting the feds could find all sorts of inhumane treatment in that Jedi temple. What did they do to make you all so un-desiring towards other people?"

"They don't teach anything else. Lifelong chastity is to be strived for—they say that emotions, especially love, clog the mind and 'lead to the dark side'."

Elliott raised his eyebrow as though he found the revelation rather absurd, "So forget love then. Why not just have a woman the old fashioned, physical way? No strings attached!"

"That is lust—still an emotion," Caius said. "Remember the quote: 'enjoyed no sooner but despised straight; past reason hunted, no sooner had…past reason hated'."

"What the hell?" Elliott asked, "they teach you that? _I _don't even know what that means."

Caius sighed, "It means that anything pursued out of lust is hated immediately after because it does not give the satisfaction it was sought for."

Elliott shook his head, said, "If they taught me that I'd violate it as much as possible."

Caius then said off-handedly, "It's not as if they teach us how."

Elliott's eyes widened, then he said, "That's horrible!" He mused for a moment, said, "Now it all makes sense! No wonder Bastila has been resisting my undeniable charms, she doesn't know what to do! I'll have to go have a talk with her."

Caius then was suddenly terrified that he had unleashed a monster, said, "You even try to talk to her about something like that and if she doesn't break your neck I probably will."

"Ouch, violent today, aren't you?"

Caius just muttered and slumped into his chair. His mind was being assaulted from all different directions at this point. Elliott stood up and began making his way out of the cockpit. Caius opened his mouth to tell him not to talk to Bastila, but found that he said something completely different. He heard the words go out into the air as though they were not his. They sounded like, "Hey Elliott…sorry about how this conversation started."

Elliott paused, but didn't look backwards, said, "Don't mention it." There was a hesitation. "I mean it."

Elliott left, and Caius found himself staring off into the blue kaleidoscope. He was very irritated at the way this whole excursion was playing out. He certainly didn't come to be entangled within this ridiculous intrigue that seemed to plague the _Ebon Hawk_. He swore that the ship was somehow sentient and trying to play matchmaker, that's the only explanation for what kept happening to him when he was around it.

He stood up and briskly walked out of the cockpit, leaving the instruments unmanned. Hyperspace was autopilot anyway, so no one needed observe it. Elliott didn't need to be close, for if there were a problem they'd all be dead before he could respond.

Caius strode through the halls aimlessly, nearing the cargo hold when he heard Xristos's voice. Determining that he had nothing better to do, he followed it into the dormitories to find him and Dustil debating each other again. The old man sure liked an intellectual discussion, and he was so spiritual all the time—he seemed like a philosopher or something.

"Hey Caius," said Dustil as the Exile ventured into the room. The young Jedi was sitting on the ground—his usual spot—as Xristos sat on one of the beds. It looked like a traditional Jedi image, a young student literally studying at the foot of an older master. Except Xristos wasn't a master.

_Come to think of it_, Caius thought, _why isn't he a master? He's old enough, and it's not as if there are any others at this point_. He decided to ask when there was a lull in their conversation. A moment of silence, and Caius said, "Hey Xristos, given all this philosophical talk—why aren't you a Jedi Master?"

Xristos—for once—did not seem to really appreciate the question. He said at length, "There are a lot of reasons. Most of them have to do with me being 'unorthodox'."

"'Unorthodox'? How?" Caius asked. Dustil seemed to be interested as well.

Xristos said, "I came into the order under very unusual circumstances. But most of the friction comes from my stance on love—namely, that I think the Order is gloriously and utterly wrong."

"That's enough of a reason?" Dustil asked.

"Yes, it is. The Order doesn't like to promote people it deems 'difficult'—I am one of those."

"And what is your stance on love, anyway?" Caius asked, somewhat interested.

Xristos dodged the question superbly, said, "Why? Those aliens getting to you now?"

One of Dustil's eyes got unusually large, as he seemed to be uncomprehending. Xristos, seeing the young man's confusion, elaborated. He said candidly, "The alien family we met thought that Caius and Allie were married."

Dustil snickered loudly, said, "No way!" he laughed, "that is hilarious!" He looked at Caius, who regarded him stoically, then his laugh faded and his face fell almost instantly. "You're serious?" he asked.

"They did," Xristos responded, "but that means nothing."

"Right," Caius answered. "It means nothing. I would've been fine to leave it that way, except now Elliott seems to think otherwise."

Dustil made sure he did not chuckle this time, though his face betrayed a substantial amount of amusement. Xristos asked, "What do you mean?"

Caius answered honestly, "Elliott said that apparently Allie…" he wasn't sure how to phrase it…said, "quote: 'has a thing' for me."

Dustil looked disgusted, said, "What is this, gossip? I thought only angsty kids do that."

"You're right," Xristos said, "but this is civilized discourse. If only because anything that happens between individuals on this trip is going to affect the mission a lot—regardless of what it is. Now," he turned to Caius, said, "What do you have to say about it?"

"What are you?" Caius asked, "a counselor?"

"If it makes you feel better—yes, I am a counselor."

Caius shrugged, said honestly, "I think she's attractive. That's it. I want nothing to do with her more than that. If I had known this would happen, I would've advised to drop her off on Coruscant after Korriban."

"Ouch," said Dustil, "that's cold."

Caius shrugged, said, "Whatever it is, it's the truth. I would prefer it not to have happened."

"Well, it seems to be affecting you, otherwise you wouldn't be talking about it like this," said Xristos, playing devil's advocate. "You can't just go on and pretend that it's not happening."

"Okay, then what do you propose I do?" Caius asked.

"Considering you said you want nothing to do with her…you're simply going to have to nip it in the bud so as to avoid any issues," answered the old man, "whether you want to or not, you're going to have to talk to her about it."

"Great," Caius said sarcastically, "more relationship counseling. I've done so much of that the past several months I thought my head was going to explode."

"Well, have fun," Dustil said.

"Thanks kid," Caius responded.

Dustil then turned to Xristos and said, "What do you mean you came into the Order in a strange way? It couldn't have been weirder than mine?"

"Perhaps I'll tell you, but not now," Xristos said cryptically.

"Well," Dustil said, "what about your views on love?"

Xristos smiled, said, "It's the same story, Dustil. But it's not one that's easily told, and I don't feel like explaining right now."

"Fair enough," said the younger Jedi.

Caius stood in silence, running through his mind what he would say to Allie. He regretted that he would have to do this, as he actually liked Allie as a person, and he hoped it wouldn't complicate matters on board the _Hawk_. After weighing his options, he turned and left Xristos and Dustil alone.

* * *

The room was cold and dark. Buried deep underground, the shelter was a cavernous fortress to his scandalous movement. There he stood in the control room, a dark, shadowing figure staring blankly at the dozen security screens in front of him. Wires fell from the backs of the projectors and sprawled out across the stone floor, twisting out of control in every direction. The man was behind a large table, papers and documents strewn about it wildly, not in any particular order. His aides had long since departed, as it was absurdly early in the morning. But he remained.

The times were trying. Unsubstantiated rumors ran amok through the ranks of his underlings. And there were not many of them to begin with. Disloyalty was a tremendous problem. Spies were rampant. It was not easy being one of the Sith Lords, a difficulty that he was all too familiar with.

He had established a front of resistance in exactly the manner that he had wanted, but there were still a lot of variables. He had learned a lot about his adversaries. He was one of several Sith Lords. Cyaxares was the brute, a sword-wielding maniac. Ardashir was the religious prophet, the face of a holy crusade. Inamurah was the strategist, the devious, backstabbing weasel who thought too much. And then there was himself. Severus. He was the newer one. He had many followers, but was not trusted by the others. Why should he be? He was a Sith, and Sith had never a reason to trust another Sith. But they had an alliance forged in hate. They had a common enemy—the Galactic Republic.

Very clearly, they had their goals in mind. It seemed that their entire existence was focused around the destruction of the Republic. It was as if the Hyperspace War was still going on in their minds. What was disturbing was that the Republic was so unaware and unsuspecting. Their lack of knowledge concerning this massive, violent empire was something that he found utterly pathetic. Perhaps they deserved to be destroyed. A visitor interrupted his thoughts.

The darkness was violated as a dim light bled through an open door from an outer corridor. The Sith Lord's wandering eyes squinted as he tried to adjust to the change in brightness. One of his associates entered the room and deftly closed the door. He was a Hasan named Hsintah, whom he had taken with him when he was on their planet. He had captured and trained the alien to be his servant. Hsintah was, in effect, his right hand man. The Hasan was tall for his species and seemingly more muscular. He strode up and regarded his leader with a salute.

There was a very rigid form of military-style hierarchy within this movement. Few saw the face of the man in charge—always his fask was covered by a dark mask, black but with red streaks. Only few knew his identity, but Hsintah was one of them—the alien who had helped him since the beginning, before he had anyone. The alien was unique. Members of his race were normally docile, but this one was not. He was consumed in his hatred, and it made him a perfect lackey. He would do anything for vengeance against those he hated, even ally with someone he hated almost as much.

A Sith Lord had killed his family once, so Hsintah had allowed himself to be controlled by another Sith Lord—if only to have a chance at bloody revenge. The Sith Lords had many apprentices and servants. Although it was not standard practice to have an alien as one, it was nevertheless precedented. The adversary Sith did not think much of it.

The dark figure returned the salute and then said in the Sith language, "_What is it Hsintah_?"

The alien also spoke in the Sith tongue, as he had it forced into his head when his language was likewise ripped from him. He said, "_We have captured one of the other Sith, Lord Severus_."

"_Just now_?" he asked.

"_Yes, sir. Two of the Sith Troopers brought him in. He was drunk in the streets, lying middle of the road. They found him and dragged him here in secret._"

"_What possessed their minds to break protocol in such a fashion?_" the Sith Lord said angrily, "_we cannot jeopardize our goals with frivolous kidnapping—surely this can do us no good_."

"_On the contrary, my lord_," answered the Hasan, "_this one is of some repute. He is one of Ardashir's fanatic cronies._"

"_Ah_," he said delightedly, "_one of the infamous propagandists. The two soldiers did right to apprehend him, no one will be looking for him—it costs too much_."

"_Indeed, my lord_," he said, "_The Sith is returning to consciousness—do you want to interrogate him_?"

"_Take the lead, Hsintah_," he replied. It was very late, to be sure, but all the better to interrogate the hostage.

Although the Sith were technically allied with each other, each Lord ruled over his own faction. Their alliance was tenuous at best. Frequently there were kidnappings and executions, but never outright defiance. None of the Sith were strong enough to take on the others; if one advanced then the other three would counter. It was gridlock. But now there was no reason to fight directly—they were working together for the destruction of their hated enemy. Once the Republic was out of the way, then their power struggle would ensue. Or so that was the plan. Severus had an idea for a grand military coup—one that he could undertake now, just before the war would be fought. But he needed more time.

He followed the Hasan through the dimly lit corridors into the prisoner's wing of the complex. There were three floors of his enclave, and the crudely designed prison and interrogation chambers were on the bottom floor, farthest away from the comm room as possible. There were no elevators in the building, so they used the stairs. Several minutes later, they arrived in the dark dungeon. Primitive electric lights hung loosely from the ceiling of the stone cavern and provided the light for the area. Severus saw that the Sith was chained to the wall in one of the unused cells. The door was open and one of the soldiers was standing guard.

He dismissed the soldier and entered the cell.

The Sith barked something unholy at Hsintah, no doubt because of his race.

Hsintah was silent, so Severus said in the gurgling Sith language, "_You are offended by this Hasan's presence?_"

"_He is an inferior race,_" bellowed the Sith. Hsintah maintained grim disinterest. The Sith continued, "_His kind are fit only for slaves and toils_."

Severus backhanded the Sith across the face, causing spit to fly from his mouth. He then said slyly, "_He is a slave_."

"_Heathen_," the Sith said.

The insult meant nothing, Severus said, "_Are you aware to whom you are speaking?"_

The Sith spat at him, meaning he that he did.

"_Getting intoxicated in the streets, how despicable. Tell me, you work for Ardashir, correct? Do you have any information of which I should be made aware?_"

The Sith just looked at him stoically. He smacked the creature again and then said to Hsintah, "_Administer the truth serum_."

The truth serum was more of a psychotropic drug than anything else. It was not guaranteed to pull the truth out of the Sith, but it was guaranteed to give him hallucinations. Hsintah ripped off the sleeve of the Sith and forcefully injected the needle into his arm. The Sith Lord watched as the Hasan seemed to relish to action. He was a brute as far as Hasan went. The alien hated the Sith. Generally the Hasan were rather timid, but this one was not. He was bigger and stronger than most of his kin, and he had been hardened by the deaths of his loved ones. Taking vengeance on the Sith was what led him to align with the Severus. The Lord was going up the Sith ladder, and the Hasan wanted to kill as many Sith as he could—helping Severus was just a necessary evil. They both knew it, but they used each other nonetheless. Hsintah was useful, that was the only reason Severus kept him alive.

The Sith winced and gagged, and his head began nodding as it seemed that the serum was beginning to work. He laughed nervously.

Severus asked again, "_What sort of valuable information can you tell me?_"

The Sith chuckled, "_I don't recall._"

Severus slapped the Sith again, said, "_We know you do. What is Ardashir planning?_"

The Sith shook his head, his eyes now seemed to be closed permanently. He made a woeful bellow and said, "_No, no, no—they knew!_"

"_You work for the Sith government, correct?_"

"_Not any more…heheh…not after this.._"

Severus thought to himself—he was getting nowhere like this. He changed the route of the conversation and asked, "_Ardashir has been more secretive as of late. What is he planning? What does he know? Has the Republic done anything?_"

The Sith squinted hard and shook his head, he hissed, "_No…no…I won't say._"

"_Administer another dose_," he told Hsintah.

The Sith was even more woozy at this point. He seemed to think that Hsintah was a tree who was trying to eavesdrop, so he leaned in close to Lord Severus as if he were whispering a secret. He said slyly with a lot of slurs, "_I knowed…rumorsh._"

"_About?_"

The Sith giggled, "_Well, I can't shay. Then it wouldn't be a shecret._"

Lord Severus nodded to Hstinah. The Hasan then removed a Sith pistol from his belt and cocked it, the familiar grinding noise emanating from it. He lowered it and pressed the barrel against the Sith's temple.

"_Tell me_," Severus demanded, "_or these walls will be decorated with your brain._"

The Sith whined and said, "_No—I knowed the shecret. It's big._" He looked nervously at Hsintah, his sullen yellow eyes regarding the Hasan with malice. "_There's foreigners in Shith shpace_."

"_This is your secret?_" he asked.

"_Ardashir knowsh,_" the Sith continued, "_he thinksh it is part of a Republic conshpiracy._"

Lord Severus cursed aloud

"_Yesh,_" continued the Sith, "_there are __**humans **__in Sith shpace. Ardashir will deal with them, but he will wait…_"

The Sith then started babbling, his mental state getting increasingly less stable. Severus did not speak again; he merely nodded to Hsintah and turned around. He put his hand on his mask as he was pondering what he had learned. There were Republic fugitives of some kind Sith space. This could quite possibly tigger war. Just as he lowered his arm he heard a loud explosive blast of gunpowder from behind him, and then another. There was a disconcerting splat as Severus's dungeon was given a new painting.

Hsintah holstered his weapon and strode up next to Severus, said, "_Shall I have one of the soldiers clean it up, my lord?_"

"_Yes—good work, Hsintah_."

The Hasan nodded and moved to leave. Severus followed him. Eventually Hsintah took an alternate turn and the man was left to himself in the halls. He was buried in his thoughts, surrounded by only his mind as deep thought consumed him. He was not at all pleased about this information. _A Republic ship?_ He thought, _in Sith space? _It was surely a bad sign. The Great Hyperspace War had began because one Republic ship had stupidly floundered into Sith space, and this had all the makings of a repeat of history. He needed more time to complete his coup. The entire Sith Empire was there for the taking, he just needed time. An even worse possibility danced through his already taxed mind. What if the ship's presence was not an accident? What if it was here on purpose?

The problem was that if _he _knew about it, as the Sith had said before expiring, then Ardashir _definitely _knew about it.

His thoughts returned to the Republic ship. Who was it? Who would be in Sith Space? A lost freighter? Hopefully. But if it was an armed ship his coup would be over before it started.

He instantly turned around to go back to Hsintah. He would need a detailed report on this Republic ship immediately.


	14. Chapter 13

N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! Er...**Jen DeClan **and **TEN10X**!It is much appreciated. Hooray, I've now broken the 100,000 word barrier! Here's a lengthy...er chapter to celebrate.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Three hundred credits won, five drinks, and a black eye. All things considered, it was a reasonably good night for Atton Rand. Probably one of the better ones since he had parted ways with the _Ebon Hawk_ and her crew.

Wise was not the word one would have used to describe how careful Atton had been with his money. Nar Shaddaa was notorious for draining even the most hardened card players, and Atton had spent some frightening time in debt to an Exchange thug. Fortunately he had paid it off and he was now in prosperity again. It had been an adventurous couple of weeks, but that many days on Nar Shaddaa felt like months. He was anxious to leave the place.

Tonight, however, he was celebrating his victory.

The pazaak den was very familiar to him now. He knew most of the regulars personally, but there was always fresh meat on display, leaking credits all over the place.

Atton sat at the bar, his stool wheeled around so he could face the crowds. He had a few drinks in him at this point, and had enough of a buzz to enjoy just doing absolutely nothing for the time being. He rested his elbows on the counter behind him, a glorious beverage sitting to his left, waiting for him to partake.

The night was almost perfect—although that black eye had been a nuisance. Earlier in the evening, one of the patrons had accused him of cheating. It was par for the course, really. Atton was so used to the accusation that he only shrugged and did nothing in response. His nemesis however, a very temperamental Rodian, had slugged him in the face after he had deemed the human's response "offensive". Before Atton could cleave the thug in half, the bouncers had him by the throat. The Rodian was hauled out of the place and thrown into the alley, smashing into trashcans and wall. Atton was awarded a drink for his troubles.

And that was where he found himself at the moment. A fat wallet, a full stomach, and a sore eye socket—but the pain was dwindling due to the effects of the sweet alcohol.

He had long since abandoned wearing his Jedi robes: the ones Caius Lucullus had given him. He had worn them in the company of the other Jedi, but he was not partial to them. And besides, people had an annoying tendency to think he was part of the Order whenever he had them on. They would always come to him and ask for help, which he did not want to deal with. He was back to wearing his traditional ribbed jacket; it helped him blend. However, he held onto the lightsaber, keeping it inside his jacket—just in case.

He enjoyed the pleasant atmosphere for a while, draining the last of his drink, and then decided to call it a night. It was already technically morning, and he figured he would head out by transport after getting some sleep—he was sick of Nar Shaddaa at this point.

After ten more minutes of lounging, the scoundrel got up and left a tip on the counter. He strode somewhat lackadaisically through the crowd as he tried to navigate his way out. For early morning, the bar was still quite crowded. However, he was eventually able to force his way outside and into the dingy, dark night of Nar Shaddaa.

He squinted in the neon lights of the pazaak den, trying to see his way. Having gotten to know the locals in his time on the planet, Atton exchanged brief goodbyes with the heavyset Aqualish, named Lukas, who served as a bouncer.

As he turned his head to the left, he discerned a shadowy figure waiting for him in the darkness. Before he could figure out what it was, he found a blaster barrel pointed in between his eyes and only a few inches from his face.

The figure emerged from the darkness and into the light of the neon signs. It was the Rodian who had given him the black eye.

"_Going somewhere, Rand?_" he asked.

"Yes, and as a matter of fact I was just about to go see your boss," Atton responded flatly.

The Rodian looked confused for a moment, then said, "_Don't get cute_."

"Right," Atton said, "I hate cute—it's a women thing. Though, I don't expect you'd know that."

The Rodian lunged forward and brought the blaster closer to Atton's face. Atton looked askance towards the bouncer, who did not budge.

"You going to do something?" he asked.

Lukas shrugged, "_My domain's inside, I have no authority in the alleyways. I see this stuff all the time_."

"Thanks, man, I owe you one," Atton said back.

Atton looked back at his assailant, who said, "_You are going to pay me what you stole, and then two hundred credits on top of that. Then maybe I'll just shoot you in the knee._"

"It's an intriguing offer, but I don't think you're really in a position to negotiate," Atton responded.

"_What the hell are you talking about? I have the gun, and you're going to suffer_."

Atton sighed, projecting an image more like a disappointed teacher than someone with a gun in his face. He said, "Have you ever heard of a little thing called 'The Force'?"

The Rodian barked a quick laugh, said, "_The time for jokes is over—you are no Jedi, and you can't use the Force. Now, I'm going to count to three—_"

Atton interrupted his would-be attacker and said, "If I can't use the Force, then I shouldn't be able to do this."

The Rodian's right arm tweaked unnaturally, the gun flying from his hand. The alien then inexplicably punched himself in the face.

There was a distinct crack as his face smashed, and the alien shrieked in pain and fell to his knees, grasping his nose. He yelled through fragmented speech, "_How the hell…did you do that?_"

Atton was holding the alien's blaster by the barrel, inspecting it with interest before looking at the bleeding Rodian. He asked innocently, "Do what? Oh, hey! It looks like you just broke your nose."

The alien was overcome with rage, his bulbous eyes consumed in fiery hate. The Rodian lunged up at Atton from the ground, his hands outstretched to grab the scoundrel by the throat. Atton merely dodged the creature's flailing body and then spun and smacked the butt of the blaster against the back of the alien's head as he careened past him. There was an audible thud and the Rodian fell limp to the ground—knocked out cold.

Atton tossed the blaster to the ground, right next to the face down alien, and brushed himself off. He looked at the bouncer again, said, "You know, you really could've done something."

"_And miss out on the show? Of course not!_"

"Hmm," Atton said, "glad you have confidence in me."

"_Something like that_," the Aqualish responded.

"Well," Atton continued, "Lukas…if anyone asks—he shot first."

"_Right_."

Atton turned to leave. He walked nearly a mile in the dangerous Nar Shaddaa streets before arriving at the semi-presentable hotel that he had been living out of for the past few weeks. He drearily ascended the stairs to his floor and stumbled into his room—the alcohol beginning to set in more. He didn't bother turning on the lights or taking off his clothes, he merely collapsed into bed face first.

* * *

He woke with the sun shining upon his face. He felt that dirty, sick feeling one gets from falling asleep in streetclothes. His hair, having been manipulated by his pillow, was sticking up into the air.

He rubbed his face with his hand and then stretched. He would have to take a shower and clean his clothes—if only to feel less…disgusting.

Following that, he grabbed all of belongings and shoved them into a duffel bag. He scanned the room one last time before shutting the door.

The dockyard was bustling. There were freighters going to and fro, and several public transport ships as well. Atton slung his bag over his shoulder and strode up to the information kiosk that was part of the port authority. He waited until one of the aides was not busy and asked, "When is the next transport off this planet?"

The employee was a frantic green Twi'lek who seemed to be surprised Atton was speaking to him. He responded, "_Uh…there's one to Telos in twenty minutes_."

Before Atton could say that he had been to Telos three times too many, he was interrupted by a message on his personal communicator. There was a simply a brief text message that flashed horizontally across its screen. It read: "Mr. Rand, this is a message from Lieutenant Grenn—Telos Security Force, you remember! Just like I promised, I'm contacting you to say that your friend Mira woke up. I tried to reach General Lucullus, but could not. Anyway, you should come by the Citadel Station Section 3 Medical Complex as soon as possible."

Atton's mouth almost dropped. He had nearly totally forgotten about Mira. He felt ashamed for doing so, and this message was certainly a shock to his system. What should he do?

The dockworker in the kiosk interrupted his thoughts, asked, "_Do you want a ticket for it?_"

Atton was weighing his options. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was go back to Telos _again_. The only thing less appealing to him at that moment was running and hurling himself into the expansive oblivion that awaited over the railings at the docks. He was contemplating ignoring the message completely, but that fateful promise he had made to Caius came roaring back into his memory. No, he would have to go back to Telos. _Again_.

He looked up at the Twi'lek and then said woefully, "Give me the ticket to Telos."

The alien complied and gave him a stub—it was rather cheap too. Atton sighed and shuffled over to the waiting transport ship.

* * *

The trip was not exactly enjoyable. Atton had been crammed in a small seat in between two Gammoreans. Once they had landed on Citadel Station and he was allowed to leave, relief poured over him in a magnificent way.

It took a little while to regain his bearings, and following his reorientation to the vast complex he made his way to the Med Lab that he and Caius had visited a seeming eternity ago. He entered the pristine, white facility and strode up to the receptionist's desk. He still had his duffel bag, as he had not gone to get a hotel room yet.

A young woman with dark hair was sitting quietly behind the desk, and seemed not to notice Atton as he stood there. The counter was so big and high up that the woman seemed to be sitting in a pit. Atton coughed and cleared his throat; only then did the woman look up.

She asked, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Atton began, "I'm here to see a woman named Mira."

The woman's nose crinkled as though this news displeased her, she said, "You related to that girl?"

"No, just a friend."

"Lucky for you—I couldn't imagine having to live with someone like that."

Atton furrowed his brow, asked, "What are you talking about?"

The receptionist sighed, she said, "That girl's been driving everyone nuts since she regained consciousness. The doctors are all in agreement that they wished she hadn't woken up."

"How comforting. Do you always dislike the patients in here?" Atton asked rather acidly.

The woman did not directly answer the quesiton, said rather icily, "If you want to go in and see her, you should go now. Visiting hours are nearly over."

"Don't need to say it twice, lady."

With that, Atton hurredly scurried out of the room and into the nearest hallway. There was a gurney right in front of him, and about a dozen doors in total leading to the patients' rooms. He slowly began making his way through the hall, peeking into the rooms as he went, but he had no luck in finding Mira. Only once he was approaching the end of the hall was he assured of her presence.

He heard her familiarly deep, yet feminine voice ringing out from the room farthest in back. He quickened his pace and strode through her door.

He was not exactly prepared for what he saw. It was not the Mira that he remembered, more like a frail shadow of her. She was pale and very thin. She was lying against an inclined bed, but it looked like she did not have a wide range of movement. She just spoke. But that was proof that she was still Mira. Despite her ghoulish appearance, she was still the same explosive firecracker that he remembered.

"Atton Rand!" she said loudly as he entered the room. "You the one they called here to look after me? Frankly I was hoping for Caius, but you'll at least be better than these idiot doctors. They won't let me do anything!"

"Nice to see you too, Mira."

The doctor who had been present used the opportunity to bolt from the room.

"Good riddance!" Mira said after him.

"How long ago did you wake up?" Atton asked.

"About three days. And where the hell is everyone else?" she demanded.

"Caius went with Bastila and some other Jedi to go look for Revan," he answered.

Mira's mouth went crooked, she said, "And he left without you? That doesn't sound like him—that sounds like…you."

Atton resisted the urge to insult, and stated the truth, "I didn't want to go."

"Why not?"

"That's suicide."

"And Malachor wasn't? You went there."

"I don't want to talk about it," he said bluntly.

"_Okay_," Mira said, "change the subject."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

She shrugged, though it looked like the action took a lot of energy to do so. She said, "I don't really know. It was kinda hazy—like falling asleep or something. What did happen?"

Atton sat down in one of the chairs next to her, said, "You were shot in the back as we were trying to get to the _Ebon Hawk_ to escape. I had to carry you the rest of the way since Caius had a broken foot."

Mira seemed to be musing in the information, then said, "Thanks, I guess. How bad was the shot?"

"Not good. But I've seen worse. Fortunately I was able to dress the wound and put you in a kolto tank until we got here."

Mira squinted at him, said, "You dressed the wound? Did you take my clothes off?"

Atton was rather stunned by the question, answered, "Well…yeah—I did."

"Pervert."

Atton rolled his eyes, said, "I didn't think that you would mind, given the situation. I see I was mistaken."

"Damn right you're mistaken. How much did you see anyway, you dirty old man?"

Atton blew out of his nose, "Nothing your bounty hunter outfit didn't show. And I'm barely older than you."

"You know what?" Mira exclaimed, "I think visiting hours are up. It looks like you have to leave!"

Atton stood up and said, "I see what the receptionist meant when she said you were a handful. What are you doing to these doctors anyway?"

"Just informing them of their stupidity. They won't even let me move from this bed. I'm going insane! You stay here any longer and I'll tell you about your stupidity too."

"Yes, your highness. I'll be back…later. I guess it depends on my schedule, considering…you know…how immobile you are."

"Shut up, Rand."

"Good evening!"

Atton then vacated Mira's room. She _was_ a handful. No doubt she had never been in one place this long before. She probably was going a little insane.

One of the doctors was standing in the hall. When he saw Atton, he walked over and regarded him grimly. "You Mira's friend?"

"Yes—though it depends on what you call 'friend'. She's a bit agitated, I guess."

"You can say that again," replied the doctor, a bald man with thin-rimmed glasses and a hooked nose, "she's…well…crazy."

"We all go a little crazy sometimes—haven't you?"

"Perhaps I have," said the doctor, "but that's not the point."

"What's the verdict?" asked Atton.

The doctor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. He said, "Well, considering she has just woken up from a very extended sleep—she's very weak. Her thinness is due to a lack of proper nutrition, and her muscles have atrophied from lack of use. In layman's terms—she's not healthy. Which means you're going to have to stay and help, considering you're the only friend or relative that she seems to have."

"It's a complicated story, and Jedi don't have family or many friends."

"She's a Jedi, then? Strange," he mused, "I would think she would act differently. They're really scraping the bottom of the barrel." He looked at Atton curiously, then asked, "You aren't a Jedi, are you?"

"No, not at all."

"Hmm, good. Don't trust those types. But if what you say is true, then she should be able to help herself heal faster."

"What's your plan?"

The doctor put his hand to his chin, began, "Well, before we do anything, we're going to need to get her on a proper diet in order to build up some strength. Or at least give her something to burn. After that, we're going to have to start her on a physical therapy program to build up her muscles again. You'll be able to take her home before that though."

"Home? I don't have a home. I don't live here."

The doctor shrugged, said, "Well, we can't keep her here the whole time. We need these rooms. Once she's able to walk well enough, you're going to have to take her to a hotel or something."

"I'll keep that in mind," Atton responded, making a mental note to check into a two-bed hotel room. "Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of. You can come back tomorrow if you want."

"Maybe," Atton said. "I'll see what happens."

"You should probably do it. Regardless of her…erratic behavior, your friend could use the moral support."

"I suppose so."

The doctor smiled slightly, said, "You seem like a decent fellow. Just ask me if you need anything, my name is Doctor Hywel."

Atton thanked the man and then passed by him to leave. This was going to be more difficult than he had thought. He had promised Caius that he would do this, so he would. Atton was a lot of things, but he'd never go back on his word if he could help it. He made his way to a nearby complex and asked for a two-bed hotel room to stay in for an indefinite period. It was more expensive than he had thought it would be.

He frowned and thought to himself,_ I'm not going to be able to do this for long. I'm going to need money_.

But there was nothing he could do at this point. He took his bag and thew it onto one of the beds. He then left the room and locked the door behind him. He would be in the local bar.

* * *

Caius was determined. He was going to speak to Allie about this…_thing_…right now—and get it settled once and for all. He was committed to keeping any personal attachments of this kind from developing. Ever. He was too set in his ways to think otherwise. No matter how awkward the discussion may be as of now, it had to be done. For the sake of his sanity—and quite honestly—for Allie's too.

He strode through the hallways of the _Hawk_ in search of the mechanic, looking around aimlessly for her in order to have this discussion. He did not know why it was suddenly so important to him, but he felt as though he had to get it out of the way now, before they got to the Sith planet. Somehow it seemed necessary.

Finally he located her working in the swoop hold. She was zapping something or other with an electrical trinket. Caius strode up as amicably as possible and said lamely, "Hey Allie…uh, what are you doing?"

She seemed a little startled and said quickly, "Huh? Oh, nothing. Just modifying one of Elliott's pistols for him. Dunno why, he just asked me about it for some reason."

"I see."

She looked him warily, asked, "So…what's up?"

Caius stared back into her honest, brown eyes. He wasn't sure how to even begin doing this. What _would _he say? He began hesitantly, "Well…there's something I need to ask."

He gulped and took a deep breath before opening his mouth again to begin. His rehearsed speech, however, ended before it started. With the absence of warning Caius found his body hurled into the air, suspended a good two feet off of the ground. His entire center of gravity was thrown into chaos, and he spun madly. Fear overcame him as he was unsure what was happening. All in the span of half a second he twisted and writhed in the air and caught a fleeting glimpse of Allie flipping over sideways.

As suddenly as it began, Caius felt himself thrust downwards into the metal ground, his body crashing down into a pile of contorted limbs. Before he could straighten himself out, he felt himself thrown again. This time he rolled quickly and brutally slammed into a nearby wall, Allie crashing down on top of him. The _Hawk_ was shuddering violently, and he felt as though his brain were beating against the side of his skull. There was a horrid shrieking noise as metal ground against metal, the ship seemingly tearing itself apart. The ringing overcame all else, throbbing inside his mind. He was no longer moving—at least as much—and he clamped his hands down on his ears. Through watery eyes he saw Allie try to move and then lurch onto the ground.

This continued for several endless seconds until the ship stabilized enough for him to get on his feet. He stumbled awfully forward, his hands still on his ears. He looked down at Allie and saw that there was a deep cut on her forehead. He did not know if he was still in one piece, but that did not concern him at the moment.

He lunged for stability and groped one of the walls of the hull, desperately trying to cling to something. Allie was at his feet on her hands and knees. His mind was racing, but one question was screaming within, overcoming all others. He could not find the will to shout, but inwardly was screaming, _What the hell is going on!_

He struggled mightily to get into the main hold. It was getting easier to walk, but he had to keep both hands on the walls due to the periodic spasms the ship would go through. He saw Bastila was sitting on the ground, her back pressed against the central console of the room.

"What is happening?" he shouted.

She yelled over the din, "I don't know! We fell out of hyperspace!"

"That's…not…possible!" he said back.

"_Talk to Elliott!_"

Caius fought his way towards the cockpit, leaving Bastila in the main hold. He did not know where Allie was. He trudged forward slowly, bracing for another shudder, and navigated the corridor. Elliott was working frantically at the controls, but it was the image out the viewport that enthralled him. A single planet was pitching and spinning wildly in front of them, the _Hawk _careening towards it. It was a strange planet. It was very brown and dead on one side, the side facing its star, but the other hemisphere was covered in ice. There was a single gray strip of prime meridian that ran vertically over the planet's surface. All this he surmised in a moment, and then it was too hard to focus on it.

He approached and exclaimed, "What the hell is happening?"

"Another ship!" Elliott shouted, "it must've been waiting! It yanked us right out of hyperspace like it had a net!"

"Can you jump back?"

"No—too risky! One of the engines is only at 25 percent power! We won't make it! I'm going to have to put her down!"

"_There!_" Caius asked in bewilderment, indicating the polar world.

"Nowhere else to go!"

"What about the ship?"

Elliott cursed and slammed his fist on one of the consoles, answered in labored breath, "Right…on our ass."

"It'll just follow us!"

Elliott flipped on one of the nearby switches and shouted into the comm., "Someone get into the turret! Fire one of those ion charges at the enemy ship!"

"_We're being shot at?_" came Bastila's voice from behind them, "_by who?_"

"The _Sith_! Who else?" Elliott returned.

Meanwhile, Dustil valiantly answered the call to man the gun turret. He stumbled into the gunner's seat and strapped himself in. As soon as he buckled all the straps and looked out into space he got a headache just from watching the spinning stars.

"I can't see _anything_!" he shouted into the communicator to Elliott.

The ship again suffered a massive seizure, throwing everyone who wasn't Dustil onto the floor again.

Elliott regained his senses and answered, "Just wait, when you see the Sith ship, fire at it! Be sparing, we only have a few of those charges!"

Dustil gritted his teeth and spun the bubble turret around, trying hard to see. As the ship pitched into another spin, he saw the planet below them growing larger. But in its massive, white cap of ice he saw a singular gray object. He readjusted his perception and saw that it was rather close. It was a long, steel colored brick of a thing, with graduated levels of girth increasing horizontally towards its engines. _Engines_. It was the Sith interdictor.

It was a monstrosity, no aesthetic qualities to it at all. More like a metal conglomeration of boxes than anything like the Republic had. But whatever it was—it managed to pull them right out of hyperspace.

Dustil tried with all his might to steady the crosshairs on the ship. It was moving, but not very fast. It seemed to be more content to hold its position as the _Hawk_ went careening past it. Dustil swung the turrets around as the freighter tumbled down towards the planet. The Sith ship was then behind him, blending very well against the dark backdrop of space. Dustil concentrated hard on it, trying to adjust his trajectory so as not to waste a shot. He was so focused that he did not notice the flames that were beginning to lap around the edges of the bubble turret.

"Dustil!" came Bastila's voice through the intercom, "we're entering the atmosphere too steep—you've got to get out of the turret!"

Xristos's earthen voice suddenly came in as well, replying in the affirmative, "You'll get burned up in there!"

Dustil paid them no heed. The flames rose higher around him as the ship blasted through the dark planet's atmosphere. He felt the heat and began sweating even more. Still he refused to budge.

"_Dustil!_"

To him, it happened in slow motion. The dancing, fiery arms that grabbed at the crossairs faded from his sight as he squeezed the trigger. An explosion of blue light shot outwards—a beam of energy. From the Sith ship's perspective, it would've looked like a great blue grappling hook had shot out of a torch and ripped into the hull.

There was no noise to accompany the blast, but Dustil knew he made contact. The Sith ship absorbed the blow, but electric discharges pulsed acoss its hull, signifying the hit. The shot itself was nowhere near powerful enough to disable the vessel, but a lucky strike would wound it—or perhaps delay it. Dustil wasted no time in bolting out of the turret, leaving it to be smothered in flames. He shut the airlock and did not look back.

He scrambled back to the cockpit and found literally the entire crew—even the droids—were present. Dustil stood behind all of them as they anxiously watched Elliott. Bastila was sitting in the co-pilot's seat, furiously working with him to keep the ship from entering too steep and bursting into flames.

"I _can't _get her to pull up," Elliott lamented. "We're going to have to ride it out!"

"Statement: Meatbags, our chances of survival are an unlikely one in three if the ship is not put into a correct entrance trajectory," said HK.

"Shut the hell up, droid!" Elliott cried. T3 beeped in agreement. Allie and Xristos both sighed nervously. Even HK made a strange whimpering noise.

"What is it, HK?" Caius asked rather unnecessarily.

"Answer: Gulp. Master, are there any religious rites to which we must attend in these our final minutes?"

"Shut up!" Elliott said again.

"What?" Caius asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him, "you're a droid! You don't have a soul!"

"Horror: Master, I resent that! If we die, I know where _you_ will be going."

Elliott raised his voice higher, said, "If you talk again, droid. I will personally rip your behavior core out of your chest. And I won't deactivate you first!"

Despite HK's bloodthirsty nature, even he had his limits. The last comment was one such example of a threat that would surpass even his idea of moral permissiveness. He did not say another word.

The whole crew fell into an uneasy silence as all visibility was lost. Fire enveloped the viewport. All of the crew was sweating not only due to fright but heat. Bastila and Elliott continued with their maddening pace. The rest just strapped themselves into remaining seats in the main hold and watched as they crashed into oblivion.

* * *

The command deck of the Sith interdictor, called _Deliverance_, was cast into benighted darkness. The ion charge that had surprisingly blasted outward from the fiery inferno that was the elusive freighter had irritatingly surprising success. The ship was stunned, and they were rapidly being pulled into the gravitational field of the planet below. The modestly sized crew worked furiously to revive the ship's essential abilities and save themselves.

A tall figure cloaked in black stood ominously in the middle of the large room, staring out of the gargantuan viewport. The viewport was very wide, stretching the expanse of the ship's bow, but only about six in height. The figure watched the freighter descend into the atmosphere of the planet, morphing into a flaming comet as it burned. The ship needed to be purged.

A small Sith officer, the Commander of the ship, approached the intimidating cloaked figure from behind. He strode up respectfully, and looked straight into the pitch-black mask that sat upon the figure's head. The face was a twisted frown, its mouth open and hanging down at the edges like an upside down crescent. The eyes were pointed downwards at the edges, giving it a very disturbingly depressing visage, like a distressed tragedy mask from ancient times. A dark cape seemed a natural extension of the hideous face, dark armor completing the imposing figure.

"_Lord Cyaxares_," began the Sith officer, "_we will not be able to pursue the enemy freighter further. We must set down on planet wherever our course currently takes us_."

Cyaxares said nothing, just held still.

"_We cannot transmit our position, as the blow knocked out our communications—and we have lost the rudder's movement…with the…ship disabled in this way, we are in danger of falling into the planet below_." The Sith officer then bowed slowly, the hood of his cowl sloping over his face.

"_Who's failure is this_?" boomed the Sith Lord. His voice was dark and deep, almost unnaturally so.

The Commander was confused, as the Sith Lord's voice seemed to be coming from the back of his head. He stuttered, "_It was unexpected…we had no idea a ship that small…had an ion cannon_."

"_You are commander of this ship. It is your responsibility. I am the hand of Lord Ardashir himself—he instructed me to use whatever discretion I deem necessary. Someone will answer for this failure_." He took a deep, menacing breath. "_This ship is dead_," another pause, "_and so,_ _now, are you_."

The Commander instantly felt his throat swell shut. He could not even muster the air to beg for his life. He fell helplessly to the floor, and then looked up at the disturbing black frown. Much to his alarm, the Sith Lord turned around…yet was still facing him. The head spun. On the other side of the Sith Lord's head was another mask, the same black face was engraved on it though only upside down. It had a horrifyingly devilish smile upon it, a frighteningly comical smirk. Its right side-up crescent mouth and tear drop eyes looked down upon him laughingly and without pity. Slowly his life was snuffed out and he knew nothing more.

* * *

"Hold on!" shouted Elliott.

The _Hawk_ screamed out of the fiery inferno of atmospheric entry and blasted through the sky at breakneck speed. Caius thought he was going to be ripped in half by the G forces as they took their toll on him. He thought he was being stretched out an extra three inches. His eyes were shut, not even able to open them and look around. He clenched his teeth as they fell.

Elliott tried to manipulate the ship using its good engine, but he could not slow their ridiculous descent. They had survived the fire, but now they were fated to smash into the planet's surface. Faster—their speed seemed to build during the fall. Caius somehow knew—internally—that they were only moments away from splattering.

Closer and closer they drew to the surface, and then Elliott acted—the final card up his sleeve. He put everything into a hard pull upwards, hoping the swoop the _Hawk_ down and skim across the surface of the gray planet.

The impact threw everyone every which direction, and Caius heard Allie above everyone else. The hull shook violently as they scraped the ground, and then suddenly they were without gravity again. He heard nothing then except for Elliott's voice raising higher and higher. Just as he reached the crescendo, there was another tremendous thud. He felt his head thrown downwards. Had his chin not hit his chest, he may have broken his neck.

He was lost in the confusion for a few moments, unsure if he was dead or alive. His eyes were still shut, but slowly he opened them. As he blinked through the blurred vision he saw the others. And then he heard them too. Xristos was unmoving and Dustil was hyperventilating. T3's head was bobbing erratically and HK was leaning against a wall. Lastly he saw Allie. She was doubled over, hanging half way out of her seat and buckle. She twisted and groaned as she unlatched the buckle and then slumped onto the ground. Caius looked closer and then his stomach leapt at the sight of her arm.

She turned over and tried to push herself up with her good arm, and he saw her left one was hanging limply but pointed in the wrong direction. Right above her wrist there was pyramidal bulge as one of her bones seemed to have been snapped clear in half. Her hand was almost upside down, palm facing upwards. She was not crying or doing anything, she was just looking at her hand and holding her bad arm.

Caius quickly unbuckled himself and tried to get up. He stumbled and fell on his knees—apparently he was still alive. He scrambled and crawled over to Allie, who looked somehow detached from reality.

"Allie!" he said, "your arm! Don't move!"

She was in another world, said to him slowly, "…what?"

He picked her up by her good arm and raised her onto her chair. She was just looking around the room as though she hadn't seen it ever before.

"Don't move, Allie. Your arm looks broken."

"Is it…?" she asked, aloof. "Hmm, I guess so. That's funny, it doesn't hurt."

Xristos and Dustil had both come out of their trances and were simultaneously stuggling to free themselves.

"Are we still alive?" asked Dustil.

"I believe so," answered the old man.

HK interrupted, said, "Statement: Mast- mast- master…I seem to have suf- suf- suffered damage in th- th-…" He could not finish his sentence, just punctuated it with, "Statement: Damn."

Dustil then posed another question, "What happened?"

Elliott's voice came shouting down the corridor from the cockpit, he said, "We _crashed_! What the hell do you think happened?"

"Are you two all right?" Xristos asked.

"Yeah," Elliott answered.

Bastila confirmed as well, said, "I'm okay. What about you?"

"We're all right," answered Dustil.

Caius then interrupted, said, "No we're not. Xristos—Allie's arm is broken, look at it."

He rubbed his eyes and then obeyed. He was noticeably unnerved as he saw how grotesque the limb was. It was still fully intact, but clearly not in the way it was meant to be.

"That is…not good," he said to no one in particular. He quickly stumbled over to the mechanic and looked at her arm closer.

Allie was just looking at her hand. She decided to see if she could wiggle one of her fingers, and then the pain became real to her. She grimaced and shuddered, making a pained grunt. "I can't…move it…" she said.

"Don't!" Caius shouted at her, upset that she was not listening.

Elliott and Bastila came wobbling into the main hold as the ship was no longer capable of moving. Bastila spoke, asked, "What's wrong?"

Elliott saw Allie's arm first and said, "Oh hell…that _is_ sick."

Bastila noticed right after, though she kept her qualms to herself. She said, "Xristos, what should we do?"

He tapped his foot, answered, "Well—it didn't pierce the skin, which does a world of good, but we're going to have to set it pronto. Otherwise she could get it cut real easy and on a strange planet like this infection would probably set in quick. She could lose the whole arm."

Bastila gulped, said, "All right—do you want to do it, or should I?"

"I don't…know," returned the older Jedi. He looked at Allie, who was now more connected with reality. He asked, "Who do you want to set the bone?"

"I don't care! As long as _someone_ does it!"

"I'll do it," Bastila volunteered. She approached, looked over a nervous Allie, and then said, "She should probably lay down." She looked around, "Caius, help me carry her to one of the beds in the dormitories."

Caius obeyed and scooped her up as gently as possible. She was preoccupied with her contorted wrist, staring at it the whole time. He went quickly to the starboard dorms with Xristos and Bastila right behind him, leaving the rest behind. He laid her down on one of the beds, and then Bastila began directing everyone.

She asked, "Do we have any anesthetics—analgesics, anything?"

"No, and none of us are qualified to apply those—even if we had them. We can only give her kolto," Xristos answered.

Bastila sighed, said, "Caius, go get some kolto shots. And get a towel, too."

He obliged and returned shortly. Allie was looking more panicked as she saw what lengths they were going through.

Xristos rolled up her sleeve and gave her two shots of kolto in the damaged arm. He then used the Force to funnel as much healing energy into her as he could, lessening the pain and her fear.

"Give her the towel to bite down on," Bastila ordered. Caius did so. The female Jedi then cautioned, "Allie, this is going to hurt—but it'll be over in a second. All right? You ready?"

Allie tried to speak, but the cloth muffled her voice. She nodded grimly.

Caius wasn't sure what to do. Xristos was trying to lessen the pain with the Force, so he decided to do the same. He put his hand on her shoulder and lent her some of his strength. She looked at him thankfully, and they locked eyes for a second before Caius heard the pop.

Allie's eyes shut instantly, and her face wrinkled as she bit down on the towel. It took a full two seconds, but Bastila worked the arm back into a natural position. It would not have been so bad had her wrist not been turned around. Bastila had to, in essence, unscrew her hand and then piece the bones back together.

In a moment it was over, and Allie's eyes opened again, beads of sweat falling down her forehead. Caius thought of how much he hated this. He did not like seeing Allie in this kind of way at all. To see her pretty face contorted like this was horribly unpleasant. He knew he would not like seeing that happen to anyone, but this particularly affected him. He gently removed the towel and tossed it to the ground.

Allie, in between breathing, asked, "You done?"

"Yes," Bastila answered, "that's it. Here, Xristos, help sit her up."

The old Jedi slowly helped her up, making sure not to move her arm. Once her back was against the wall, Bastila brought her some water. Allie asked, "Well—I guess that wasn't _so_ bad. The way you were all acting, I thought you were going to cut my arm off."

"Well," Xristos answered, "we had to set it or else you arm might really have had to come off."

"Thanks…" Allie said, somewhat intimidated by the thought.

Bastila put her hand on Allie's formerly twisted wrist and used the Force to fuse the bones back together. "There," she said, "you are in one piece again." She thought for a second, said, "But you still shouldn't move it. We should probably get you a sling and some sort of cast to keep your arm protected for a few days. The Force will help it heal quickly, though."

Xristos exited and came back with a sling and some wrappings. Caius made sure Allie was okay and then announced he wanted to take a walk, disgruntled by the whole experience. He strode out of the dorm and found that Dustil and Elliott were gone. HK and T3 had plugged themselves into recharge stations in the hopes that they could rekindle their functionality. Caius searched for a brief moment, and then he realized that the loading ramp was down. Dustil and Elliott had gone outside. Caius determined to follow them. He strode down the ramp—which was rather askew—and found them both standing a few feet apart from each other at the foot of the ramp. It appeared to be dusk outside…or perhaps dawn.

Caius made their conversation a triangle. He saw Elliott remove a cigarette with shaking hands. He asked, "Could I bum one of those off of you?"

"Absolutely," Elliott answered, his voice a little shaken as well.

He gave Caius one of the cigs and tossed him a lighter. Caius turned his back to the wind and, at length, lit the cigarette. He then returned the lighter, said, "Thanks."

"I didn't know you smoked," Elliott said.

"I don't," Caius responded. "How's the ship?"

"No idea," Elliott answered. "She looks to be in one piece, but I mean…we can't expect her to be all right after a fall like that. I hope we aren't stuck here forever."

Caius instinctively looked around. He wanted to see the place that they would potentially be stuck on forever. It was a dead planet that was certain. Everything was gray and rocky, as though the entire place were composed of canyons or steppes. But it was too dark to really see far. There were dozens of mysteriously shaped things in the distance, old structures, maybe. The climate was odd, it was neither hot nor cold—merely an uncomfortable middle ground. It occurred to Caius that they must've crashed in the seemingly temperate latitudinal zone that made up the planet's geographical meridian. He remembered the image he saw of the planet. It must be one of those rare planets that only rotate its sun once per revolution. That meant that the same side was always facing it. He thought for a moment, and realized that that explained why one half was so hot looking and the other half was so white with snow. That also meant that this dusk-like sky would be permament. They would be stuck in a perpetual gray world.

The most glaring aspect of the world, though, was it's apparently weak force of gravity. Even as Caius walked he noticed how much less it exerted on him, and he felt that he could probably jump higher on this place than most other "habitable" worlds. In all honesty, they probably owed their survival to the lesser force, as their crash would have been softened as a result.

Dustil interrupted his thoughts, asked, "How is Allie?"

Caius removed the cigarette and blew. He did not like the feeling of smoke in his lungs, but this narcotic effect was something he needed at the moment. He answered, "She's all right. Bastila set the bone. Gotta give her credit—she took it in stride. She's rather…tough."

"Sounds like she impressed you," Dustil said.

"What's your point?" Caius fired back.

"Nothing," Dustil said innocently. "Did you break the news to her?"

"What news?" Elliott asked in Caius's stead.

"Caius was going to tell Allie that he didn't want to get involved with her," supplied Dustil.

Caius sighed, smoke expelling from his mouth and nose. He tapped the cigarette and let ashes fall, said, "I'm glad everyone knows about this."

Elliott said, "It's not as if we didn't already know. It seems you were the last one to figure it out."

"Well no," Caius said flatly, "to answer your question. I didn't have the opportunity. What with us getting shot down and all."

"I gotta say," Elliott began, "from an objective viewpoint, her interest in you does not seem to be unrequited."

"Force damn it," Caius said, "did I not already explain this to you? It doesn't matter what I _feel_. I'm not going to get involved with anyone ever. That is _who…I AM. _Nothing is going to change that."

"I just think it's stupid to be…that way," Elliott said.

"I disagree," Dustil responded, "he _should_ stay out of that kind of thing. He's a Jedi, we can't fall in love or anything or else we'll fall to the dark side. It already happened to me once."

Caius smirked and shook his head. "That does not concern me. I could easily get with Allie and _not_ fall to the dark side," he boasted.

"_Men_," said a fourth voice from above them. All three of them looked up to see Bastila standing at the top of the loading ramp. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was frowning tremendously.

"How long have you been up there?" Caius asked.

"Long enough," she said dryly. "Now, I was going to tell you we are going to have a meeting and discuss what to do, but I think I'll leave you all to your smoking break. Come in when you're older." She jetted off quickly after finishing.

"That was unfortunate," Caius said.

"I hope she doesn't think I was encouraging you…" Dustil said sheepishly.

"Encouraging me? I already said I want nothing to do with Allie—at least not that way. I was only stating that, for the record, the Dark Side does not concern me."

Dustil frowned and looked at Caius warily. He said, "That is an arrogant attitude. We are all susceptible to it—even you."

Caius dismissed him, said, "I have not been affected by it since Malachor V. It has no hold over me."

"But I've felt it in you," Dustil said quietly.

"What?" Caius asked. Elliott merely looked on with renewed interest. "What do you mean?" Caius asked again.

"After that last planet. You came back—there was a taint on you. You did something there."

Caius shrugged, said, "I killed a Sith—surely _that_ is the last thing to be a sign of 'dark side' corruption."

"You know as well as I that intent can make any action depraved, no matter how 'noble' it looks on the outside."

"I told you exactly what happened, I killed a Sith—that's it."

Dustil pursued him, said, "Surely there must've been more to it. Did you kill it in cold blood? Did you enjoy doing it? Did you torture it? Those are signs of the dark side—even if you don't recognize them."

"Look," Caius said flatly, "I hate the Sith. This I will admit. But does righteous anger mean nothing to you? They killed one of our friends; I got even. That's it."

Dustil then spouted off one of the old lines of Jedi wisdom, said, "Anger leads to hate…hate leads to suffering."

Caius was annoyed, talking to Dustil at the moment was kind of like reading a Jedi textbook. He said, "I told you, it means nothing."

"Caius—listen to yourself? Don't you think that's how all the Sith talk to themselves? Of course they don't start off thinking that they're evil—even though they are."

"That's different," Caius began, spitting out his cigarette and stamping on it.

"Is it?" Dustil interrupted. "I don't think it is. You can be under the influence of the dark side and not know it—I was."

"I…I…" Caius stammered. Despite all he wanted to do to resist it, he could see the truth in Dustil's words. And he remembered that the Jedi had an annoying tendency to be right more than they were wrong.

"I know you were let down by the Order," Dustil said, "but that doesn't mean you should take such a flippant attitude towards the dark side. You are still a Jedi. Perhaps not in name, but you are in spirit. And you should act like it."

"I…see…" said the Exile.

"So…" Elliott began, hijacking the conversation and steering it back to a topic that interested him more, "Allie."

"What of her?" Dustil asked.

"Love leads to the dark side…" Caius said mechanically, as though he were in a trance. Dustil's words really rattled him—his confidence was honestly shaken.

"Love?" Elliott asked, somewhat surprised. "You love Allie?"

"I…" Caius began and then motioned for another smoke. He lit the cigarette quickly and finished, "I guess I don't know."

"I'll take that as a yes," Elliott answered.

"It's _not _a yes…" he retorted, "I just don't know."

Dustil took a step closer to Caius, said, "You should resist it, like you said. If you're already in danger of the dark side, love will only make it worse."

Elliott then chimed in with knowledge neither of them thought he had, said, "What about the old man? He doesn't seem to think that love is so bad."

"He did say that," Caius thought out loud, "I wonder why."

"Don't think about it," Dustil said, "I don't want you to get confused and corrupted. I'm saying this because I'm your friend, and I don't want to see you fall just like I did, because let me tell you—this is exactly how it happened with me."

Somehow Elliott waxed philosophical even further. He asked rhetorically, "Isn't that a kind of love, too?"

"What?" Dustil and Caius asked in unison.

"Friendship—that's love, isn't it?"

Dustil stuttered, said, "Well…it's not, it's just…"

"He has a point," said the Exile.

There was an awkward pause as none of them spoke. Dustil was furiously wracking his brain to figure out a way to defy Elliott's statement, and Caius and Elliott merely smoked in silence.

Caius's mind was under siege again. Was love what he really felt for Allie? Maybe it was. No, it couldn't be. No one would fall in love with someone just like that—someone they did not even know. But what if it was? What did this mean? What would he do about it? His confidence in himself had been destroyed by Dustil. If he had really slipped into the dark side and not even known it…he was truly in a precarious position. He could not allow himself to be compromised, especially by a woman.

_I need to talk to Xristos_, he thought to himself, _he'll know what to do_.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself in a position where he didn't think he knew the answer. Dustil was right—he was a bit arrogant.

He looked up at the sky, and suddenly his thoughts rerouted. _What the hell are we doing out here?_ He thought, _we'll get killed!_ It suddenly dawned on him that the only reason they were having this conversation was because they had been shot down by an enemy ship—a _Sith_ ship. What where they doing just standing around? They had to prepare! They could get attacked again at any moment!

Just as he was about to voice his fears, the skies silenced him.

"Whoa," said Elliott, "look at _that_."

Caius and Dustil looked up. Miles away they saw a great fat object blasting through the planet's atmosphere, much in the same way that they just had. This ship was bigger; perhaps three times the size of the _Ebon Hawk_. It was moving fast, but almost straight down.

"Is that the Sith ship?" Caius asked.

Dustil nodded in the affirmative.

Flames were lapping at its underside as it plunged downwards. Still ion charges seemed to orbit it, as it was paralyzed by their shot. The three men watched it in awed silence as the aesthetic monstrocity continued its meteoric fall.

It disappeared behind a mountain range, into the snowy area of the planet. They exchanged brief glances and then felt the ground shake briefly and violently. A huge plume of smoke and dirt and metal blew up from behind the mountain range, signaling the destruction of the Sith ship.

"Damn," said Elliott. "Too bad they didn't have me as a pilot."

"Do you think anyone could've survived that?" Caius asked.

"I wouldn't think so," Elliott answered. "It hit the ground pretty damn hard."

They were cut off by Bastila again, who had returned to her perch above them. She said, "I was not serious when I said I'd leave you out here! Come on! We have a lot to do!"

"Did you see that?" Dustil asked.

"What?" Bastila said acidly.

"The Sith ship," he answered, "it just crashed."

Bastila's eyes widened, she said, "What? Where?"

Dustil gestured far away, said, "Over in the polar area. It hit hard and blew up—maybe gravity solved our problem for us."

Bastila mused, "Be that as it may—we still have to figure out a way to get off of this planet. Now come inside!"

"Yes, ma'am," said Elliott.

With that, all four of them re-entered the _Hawk_.


	15. Chapter 14

Author's Notes: Okay, here we go. This is a giantly giant chapter (the longest one yet), and I think I should apologize before any of you read it for the amount of dialogue here. There is...a lot, and I'm positive I got carried away, but hey, it was still fun. I hope you enjoy it and/or are not angered by the overt philosophizing. **Disclaimer:** Make sure you read the **DISCLAIMER **at the end of the chapter if you get through the whole thing. :P Yeah, I went there.

Oh, and special thanks to **Jen DeClan**, **TEN10X**, and **Captain Azza**. Thanks for the reviews, peoples, it means a lot.

Enjoy...!

**Chapter Fourteen**

The _Hawk_ was tilted slightly as it was imbedded into the ground at an angle, causing the ship to sit on a small incline. Everyone inside was unconsciously leaning one direction to compensate for it.

The entire crew assembled in the main hold. Even Allie was there, her left arm held to her chest in a blue sling. Xristos had told her not to try to move it for at least a few days.

"How are you doing?" Caius asked her.

She shrugged her good arm, said with slight smirk, "Just as good as when you asked five minutes ago."

Elliott looked at Caius as though he were about to explode with laughter, while the Exile said, "Sorry—just making sure."

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though," she said sincerely.

Bastila cleared her throat to bring everyone back to the situation at hand, and then asked all of them at once, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," said Caius. "Is there anything we _can _do? Can the _Hawk_ even fly again?"

Elliott gave an unsure gesture with his hands, said, "I really have no idea. That she's still in one piece is pretty much a miracle as it is."

Dustil asked, "Could we start the ship and just…see?"

"We could," Elliott answered, "but if there's a problem we don't see…then something bad may happen."

"Such as?" Caius asked.

"We could burst into flames."

"Then let's…not do that," Dustil stated.

"Good point, Captain Obvious!" ridiculed Elliott. Dustil just frowned. "Allie," Elliott began, becoming more serious, "do you think you could survey the ship and see what there is to fix? Or at least judge if she could fly without exploding?"

"Sure," she began, "but I'd have to—"

She was interrupted by Xristos who said, "Hold on, I don't think Allie should do anything for a little while. You saw how bad her arm was, we don't want her to hurt it again."

Allie responded, "I won't move my arm. I can just look, we're going to have to do this _sometime_."

"Yeah," Elliott said, "she could just find out what the problems are and then have T3 and Dustil fix it."

"Hey!" exclaimed the younger Jedi.

"Sounds good to me," Allie said, not considering Dustil's protest.

"That's good for us," Bastila interceded, "but what about the Sith that shot us down?"

"Considering how hard they hit the ground," Caius said, "I doubt they'll be looking for us. They'll have bigger problems."

"But what if we can't get the ship started," Bastila said, "we'll run across them eventually—if they're still alive."

Elliott responded, "I don't think they are. You should've seen how hard they hit the ground. Miracle shot by Dustil, to be honest."

"Thanks."

Xristos thought that they would have to look into it further, said, "We should try to find out what happened. At least scout the ship—if there are any survivors…we'll have to deal with them."

"Let's send HK," said Caius.

The droid, who had previously been standing in the background, spoke happily, "Statement: HK-47 is ready to serve, master. I am willing to go scout out the enemy crash site and slay the survivors."

"Don't worry too much about killing them all," Caius said, "we don't want you to get destroyed—we need your information. Just use caution, this is a scouting mission."

"Statement: Master, I am disturbed that you display such a lack of confidence in me! None of these Sith inbreeds will pose that much of a threat."

"Just don't get into a firefight, HK. Think like a scout. And use your short range comm to tell us what's going on."

The droid sighed, a strangely 'meatbag' characteristic, "Resignation: Very well, master. I will be off."

"Wait, HK," Caius interrupted, "I know you work better alone, but you should probably take someone with you. If only for numbers in case you actually do get attacked."

"Concession: Master, I do not agree with this idea—at the very least, I abhor it—but I am at your command."

Caius looked around the faces that looked at him, he asked, "Does anyone…_want _to go with him?"

There were a few moments of silence before Dustil shrugged and raised his hand, he said, "I'll go. I didn't get to go out on the last planet, and to be honest, I'm tired of being on this ship. I've got space legs."

"All right," Caius said, "just be careful. If anything happens, contact us on your comms and we'll see what we can do. Regular updates are probably a good idea. Are you just going to head in the direction of the Sith ship?"

"Yeah, we'll see if there are any survivors," Dustil answered.

Caius nodded, said, "Very good, but don't go yet. We'll see how much damage the ship has. If we can't take off immediately, or we need to find parts, then you should go."

HK muttered something and then stormed off into the swoop hold.

"Crazy droid," muttered Elliott. "I hope you all remember how tough he was when he thought we were going to die."

Everyone ignored his comment. Bastila raised another topic, and said, "Do you think we should try to contact Carth?"

"Not yet," said Caius, "we don't want to broadcast our position to anyone. Even if they couldn't read it, if there are any Sith left on that ship they'll find out where we are immediately. It'd be like a beacon. We can't send any messages now."

Bastila frowned, though she seemed to agree.

"What would we say, anyway?" asked Caius.

Xristos answered, said, "I don't know. But if the Sith have found us, then we've been severely compromised. It might not be wise to continue this way. We'll have to radically rethink our strategy, or perhaps even abandon it altogether. We don't want to accidentally trigger war."

"We should have thought of that before we shot them down," said Caius. "I don't know if we really have a lot of options."

"But we're getting ahead of ourselves," said Xristos, "we need to see if it's even possible to get off of this planet first. Allie, if you think you're well enough to look at the engine room and the outside of the ship…then we should probably get on it."

"I am fine!" she insisted. "Stop asking me every five minutes if I'm okay!"

Xristos laughed, said, "All right—then let's have a look around."

* * *

"Doesn't look good?" Xristos asked.

"Nope," responded Allie. "When we were yanked out of hyerspace it did permanent damage to the hyperdrive." She leaned against the wall of the engine room, looked at Xristos, Elliott, and Caius respectively, continued, "We need a new seal for the combustion core. We try to jump with this one cracked like it is…the drive will overheat and explode. And we'll turn into particles."

"Damn it," said Elliott, "how are we going to get another seal?"

Allie shrugged, "I guess we'll have to look around here. That Sith ship is probably the best bet."

"What if their technology is too different?" Caius asked.

"Or what if their hyperdrive is broken as well?" supplemented Xristos.

"Then we'll contact the Republic," Allie said. She paused and thought, then said, "Do we even know if the communications equipment works?"

Bastila entered the room and answered her question for her, "No, not at all. Just static. If we want to get a message anywhere we're going to have to use someone else's transmitter."

Caius sighed, said, "This just keeps getting better and better."

"Well," Bastila began, "I suppose this means we can send off Dustil and HK now. I'll go tell them."

They watched as Bastila left the room. Xristos then said, "What about the rest of the damage, is that fixable?"

Allie said with an air of confidence, "I think so—let's check it out."

* * *

An hour later, Elliott was sitting on top of the _Ebon Hawk _with a toolbox, a frustrated look on his face and two wires in his hand. He was on his knees, trying desperately to repair the ship. One of the panels on top of the ship had been pried off, revealing the innards of the vessel, and he was working within the confines of an opening.

"Dustil should be doing this," he said angrily. T3, working on another part of the ship's hull, agreed.

"No, no, no!" Allie shouted at Elliott as he was tinkering with the various parts. "That one goes there, _this _one goes _here_!"

"Damn it!" he yelled, his face contorting in irritation. "I'm putting it here!" There was a sound of something sparking, but Elliott paid it no heed.

Allie shook her head in disapproval, said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Well, too late, I did it." He then shouted down so that Xristos—who was inside the cockpit—could hear him. "All right, that's it. Try it!" he yelled

The old Jedi obliged, but no sooner had he activated whatever it was Elliott was working on than they experienced some unpleasant issues. Right after Elliott had given his command, there was a large sparking explosion, and smoke began billowing up from the removed plank that he was working on. The steam and smoke blew up into Elliott's face, and he started coughing maniacally. Allie shifted out of the way, but Elliott was not so lucky. He looked to be dancing as he tried to avoid the gases. He yelled loudly, "Turn it off! Turn it off!" The _Hawk_'s alarm began sounding—a strange policecraft-like plop of a sound—to signal the error. "Turn. It. _Off_!"

Allie began giggling to herself, and shook her head, looking downwards with an amused smile on her face.

Bastila and Caius were watching from the ground, several yards away, as Xristos began bashing the buttons on the _Hawk_'s cockpit console to shut off whatever was malfunctioning.

Elliott exhaled angrily and grumbled. He looked up at Allie, who just regarded him humorously. He grumbled again, and she started laughing again.

Caius chuckled after watching the display. He was actually beginning to like all of these people, much more than he had thought he would. Even Elliott was growing on him.

"So," Bastila spoke up, her voice loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to keep it from being perceived past where they were standing, "got everything figured out?"

Caius, not really in the mood to talk, said sharply, "Didn't I ask you that several days ago?"

"You did," came her accented reply, "so I figured I'd turn the tables."

"Why? Why do you want to turn the tables? Can't everyone see that I do not particularly enjoy dealing with this?"

"What are you talking about…exactly?"

"What do you mean? Everyone knows about this _now_. These people gossip like wildfire."

"It's always been that way with the _Ebon Hawk_, it seems. Sometimes the people in it can get very adolescent and angsty."

Caius smirked slightly, said, "Yourself included?"

"_No_, I did not say that. I already told you about myself. And I appreciated you listening. But I realized that we haven't spoken since then—I was merely trying to find out how you were doing. Apparently the question offended you. It's ironic considering you asked me the same thing earlier." Bastila was a little icy in her tone, though it became evident to Caius that she wasn't really referring to anything specific when she began the conversation.

He said, "Sorry—I thought you were talking about something else."

"Hmm," she mused, "Allie?"

"Yeah—that's all anyone else is talking about."

"How did they find out?" she asked.

Caius was unhappy again, said flatly, "There is _nothing_ to 'find out'. Just this imbecilic crew is trying to force me into a relationship with our mechanic—and Elliott seems to think it's fun to blather on about it all the time."

Bastila did not look at him. They stood side-by-side throughout the whole conversation, not facing each other at all. She said, "Well, at least you aren't a Jedi anymore. If you ever changed your mind…nothing would happen."

"Like with you and Revan?"

Bastila nodded solemnly, but when she spoke it was not about yourself, she said, "You don't feel anything for Allie?"

"I didn't say that. But I don't _want_ to feel anything for her. It is just too…complicated. I don't want to deal with it. Can't you relate?"

"Too well," was her response.

Caius spoke, "Everything is so unnecessarily difficult. I thought once I got a new crew that would change. Apparently not. Apparently angsty strife follows the _Hawk_ around like the plague."

"I wouldn't exactly call our situations 'angsty'. That's a schoolyard thing. We're not writing horrible, forlorned poetry or songs about it. We're just adults trying to figure out what to do with the situations in front of us. There's nothing 'angsty' or juvenile about that."

The Exile was about to speak again, but Elliott's shouting overpowered his voice. The pilot exclaimed, "No—wrong tool, T3!" He grumbled, "Horizontal boosters? Alluvial Dampers?" T3 then wheeled over to the little section of the cockpit that Elliott was working on. The little droid was a good two feet above him as he was on one of the _Hawk_'s inclines. The mischevious robot then bumped—whether it was intentional, Caius couldn't tell—a toolbox down onto the pilot below him. Elliott yelled in pain as the box struck him on the head, said, "Damn it, droid!" He looked at the tools around him, said, "That's not it! Bring me the hydrospanner!"

Allie was laughing even harder now as she watched the scenario unfold. Her laugh was pleasant in its sweetness, although it was not a unique one at all. Not like the deep guffaws Xristos would make or the melodic chuckles produced by Elliott. Neither of them were very pleased with the situation, though, only Allie found it funny. Probably because she could clearly see what they were doing wrong.

Bastila brought the conversation back to Caius, said, "She's very pretty."

"That just makes it more complicated," came his stoic reply.

Bastila sighed slightly, said, "You know—I initially tried to resist her coming with us. Not because of her, though, she's very nice to have around, and she's a good person. I mean…I like her. But…I was afraid something like this would happen. Though I can't say I anticipated it to concern you—I thought Dustil would be more of an issue, considering their similarity in age."

Caius thought for a moment, then said, "Two things: one, Allie is thirty-three."

"What?" Bastila said, clearly surprised. "I…thought she was much younger. I guess…age isn't an issue." Clearly Bastila was shocked that Allie was older than her. How she didn't know already, Caius had no idea.

"Two," Caius went on, ignoring Bastila's interruption, "Dustil is as hyperconservative a Jedi as you could imagine. He thinks I'll fall to the dark side if I get involved with her—which, I make mention, I am not. There's no way he'd get involved with any woman." He paused, then said, "He certainly wouldn't approve of you and Revan."

"And that's why you can't tell anyone about it. Contrary to what you might think, I'm not that embarrassed about my feelings for him in the 'angsty' sense. I'm just afraid of what will happen to me if the Order finds out. That was why I was so hesitant to talk about it. And still am."

"You certainly seem more comfortable."

"Not really. It took me a long time, but I finally came to terms with the fact that I told you everything. But no one else needs to know. It's something I have to keep private—for the sake of the Order." She then added an addendum, "Fortunately for you, you don't have this problem."

"No," he conceded. He thought about what Xristos had told him, though, and then decided that he had to speak up. Bastila needed to hear. He said, "The old man knows."

Bastila voice was wary, hesitant. She asked, "…excuse me?"

"Xristos," Caius elaborated, "he knows about you and Revan."

The air around Caius seemed to tense, and then Bastila blurted out, "You swore you would not tell anyone!"

"I didn't!" he offered as soon as he could. "The old man overheard us on Nar Shaddaa. I kept my promise—you have to believe me."

"And he told you he knew?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Yes," Caius insisted, "but he also vowed not to repeat it."

Bastila did not speak for a long time. Caius dared not look her in the face for fear of being glared to death. They stood in a stuffy, awkward silence and watched Elliott and Xristos fuss over the various problems with the _Hawk_ as Allie and T3 tried desperately to fix what was broken.

At length, Bastila spoke. It was a quiet, breathy whisper, the kind of voice one uses when admitting a wrong or defeat. She put her hands on her head, said, "This is all so…out of control..."

"Don't say that—this is not the end of the world."

"Oh, and suddenly you're the expert?" she asked bitterly, "don't you know what this means? What if I lose my knighthood over this? Everything could get turned upside-down."

Caius was confused, he said, "But the Order has been nearly shattered. There are only a few dozen Jedi Knights left, there's no way you'd get exiled from the Order now. Not with it in its current state and with you the most powerful ally they have. Maybe ten years ago…but not now."

Bastila sighed, said, "The point is that it will still inspire controversy. Perhaps I won't be exiled, but I'll be humiliated."

"So it is embarrassment, then?" he asked.

"Fine—that's what it is. I'm ashamed of that and of my betrayal of the Jedi Code."

"But I don't think you have to worry, Xristos won't tell anyone."

Bastila laughed, a nervous and disbelieving laugh that bore no humor at all. She seemed to be a little out of it now, and clearly the fact that her secret was getting around was not exactly comforting to her. Compliment that with a crashed ship on a strange planet and one had a recipe for an emotional tirade.

"I didn't know you were this…negative about the Order," said Caius. He noticed that she was still insisting using the 'doom' language, even though it was quite clear that she would not be punished too dramatically if the Jedi learned of her secret. But she was not in a mood to be resoned with.

She emanated that nervous chuckle again, said, "Oh, I didn't use to be. I was the quintessential paragon. But all it took for me to see otherwise was to fall in love with Revan and then stumble into the dark side. The weird thing is that falling to the dark side is apparently okay, but falling in love isn't. You, of all people, should know that the Jedi don't _always_ forgive."

"You don't have to talk to me about the flaws of the Jedi. I know about them more than anyone, but I'm talking about you. You don't have to be afraid of Xristos—he won't compromise you. And I don't think you have to worry about the Order either—you're too valuable to them for them to allow anything like this to happen. And besides, they all like you."

"I wish I could believe you," she retorted. Clearly she was very affected by her treatment by the Order since the Civil War. Perhaps she felt hypocritical and therefore lashed out at them because of it.

"Have you spoken to Xristos at all?" Caius asked. "He's very…liberal…in his views about love. He likes to talk about it. Maybe _you_ should ask him about it."

Bastila bit her bottom lip, said, "I am going to have to talk to him either way. If what you say is false—then I will have to beg him not to repeat what he knows." She gave a tremendous sigh, said, "This is not going to be pleasant."

She was about to leave him there when the personal comm she had in the pocket of her robes crackled to life. There was static and then Dustil's voice came piercing through it.

"This is Dustil," it said, "can anyone hear me?"

"This is Bastila," the woman said to him in a cool tone that completely masked the emotional revelation and conversation she had just been through. "Are you all right? And have you found anything?"

"Nothing yet…at least for our ship. But there is all sorts of strange stuff out here. You should see it. Once you get out of the steppe where we crashed, there are all sorts of old, archaic structures and things. Even some statues and memorials. It looks like this place was once inhabited by a sentient race."

HK chimed in from the background, said, "Statement: Much to my dismay, we have found no living meatbags. Someone beat me to exterminating them."

Bastila then responded, "How is that possible? This planet seems thoroughly uninhabitable—it is entirely dead."

"Maybe it wasn't always," Dustil said.

"But it doesn't even rotate—surely this place could not have sustained life."

"I don't know what to tell you," Dustil replied, "because I'm looking right at the evidence right now, and it says that you're wrong."

Caius suggested, "It's possible that species here adapted to the hostile environment through their evolution. Look at Tatooine—somehow there's life _there_."

"But there isn't even plant life on this planet," said Bastila. "Even Tatooine used to be a lush place—before the Rakata atomized it."

"Maybe the same thing happened here," said Caius.

Dustil's voice crackled through the comm again, saying, "Well, we'll talk about the planet's ecology later. I just figured you'd want an update as we went on."

"How far are you from the Sith ship's crash site?" Bastila asked.

"We still have a ways to go, I'll update you again later. Dustil out."

The transmitter then went silent.

"That was interesting," said Caius, hopeful that Bastila had cooled down.

"It was," she said, "but I'm a little preoccupied right now. Just…give me a minute. I need to think."

Caius obliged, leaving Bastila to herself as he strode closer to the commotion at the _Hawk_. He was very confused about how to react to Bastila. He had no idea how much animosity she felt towards the Jedi. He remembered her as being a staunch supporter of the Council through thick and thin. After all, she had not gone to war against the Mandalorians as he had. She was too young, but he knew that she supported their decision to bide their time. Now she seemed to be vehemently opposed to them, despite the fact that she was still a Jedi. What this told him was that she still had feelings for Revan, feelings she knew that the Order condemned, and that was why she felt at odds with them. They condemned a part of her. No matter how hard she insisted that she no longer loved Revan—that is was something of her past—he now knew this to be gloriously and utterly false.

By the time Caius made it to the base of the _Hawk_'s contorted loading ramp, and drifted out of his thoughts, he noticed that Xristos was standing at the bottom. He was looking up at Allie and Elliott, as they were still on top of the ship. He shouted, "That's enough for me. I'm old and I need a break. You can continue doing whatever it is you are trying to do—it doesn't seem to me to be working anyway." He glanced to his right and saw Caius, said, "Great! Caius! You can take my place. Get up there and do whatever Allie tells you."

Before Caius could say otherwise, Xristos disappeared into _Hawk_.

The Exile conceded to doing what he was advised and strolled up the roof of the _Hawk_ via the natural earthen ramp that was created out of their crash site.

"All right," Caius said to Allie, "what can I do?"

Allie opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Elliott, who said, "Give me the _hydrospanner_!"

* * *

Several hours—and a few successful repairs later—the crew resolved to rest. It was not a hard decision to make, as they were all completely exhausted from the day's ordeal. It was difficult to function on a normal circadian cyle, as jumping from planet to planet left them with a lot of artificial night and day. They had to make time to sleep, not because they were especially tired, but because their bodies demanded it.

This was such an occasion. Despite the fact that the planet they had been marooned on had no night, it was dark enough to pretend. Without any power going to the lights, it was very dark in the dormitories, and allowed for them to sleep easily. Certainly much easier than Dustil or HK would have it. Their scouting mission was going to take a while. If Dustil determined to sleep, he would have to do so on the ground. But he would at least have the consolation that HK was guarding him. But considering the eternal dusk—or dawn—of the planet's sky, he might not ever decide to sleep.

But not all of those on the ship _could _sleep. Or, at least, Bastila Shan could not.

No sooner had she lain down than did her mind begin swimming with restless thoughts. It was a terrible affliction. Her body was dead tired, but once she even seemed to touch her head against a pillow, her brain kicked into overdrive. It would not desist, and she was getting no relief.

Allie was sleeping peacefully in the bunk behind her, the mechinc's arm apparently causing her no pain. Bastila groggily and unhappily sat up and threw her legs over the side of her bed. She ran her hand over her face, pulling her eyes open, and then looked at the ground. She could not sleep, no matter how hard she tried. After a few moments, she slowly stood up and stretched. She grabbed her outer Jedi robe, bundling it over herself, and then left the room.

She strode slowly, engrossed in thought, through the corridors and into the main hold. This night was not unlike the torturous one she had spent on Coruscant. But at least now she had the added peace of mind of not being close to the Jedi at all. She did not feel like a betrayer in the heart of her allies' abode when she was this far away. She was just a wayward soul.

As she walked through the hold, she was surprised to find Xristos Karianis was not only awake as well, but moving in an adjacent direction to her. He looked to be heading to the cockpit.

She squinted through the dim, near darkness, and said, "Xristos, what are you doing up?"

He did not jump, as though he had expected interruption, and said in his deep voice, "I got my sleep earlier. I was just heading somewhere quiet to meditate. Perhaps I should ask you the same question? Or were you going to do the same thing?"

Bastila responded, "I wasn't planning on it. I was just walking around, trying to clear my head."

"I see," said the old man soothingly, "such is the life of a Jedi—the cost of discipleship. What's troubling you?"

Bastila did not want to tell him, but she knew she had to. She had to talk to him about what he knew about her. She _wanted _to run away and let the matter die, but she knew that was not possible. The old man was so friendly and amiable that she felt more comfortable in talking to him than she had thought she would. She said, "I don't know how to even began."

Xristos just nodded.

She whispered, "Can we move somewhere else? Outside, perhaps?"

"Why? Are you afraid of eavesdroppers? We could if you want, though I don't know who you are concerned about."

Bastila thought for a moment. He was right, Caius already knew her secret, and Allie and Elliott would not pose any sort of threat to her even if they did know. Still, she did not like the idea of them hearing so she suggested a compromise: "Can we go to the cockpit?"

"Certainly."

They strolled into the cockpit and sat down in the pilot and co-pilot seats, Bastila on the right and Xristos on the left. It was still very dark, but through the viewport the dim sky cast a bit of light on them. Bastila sighed loudly, ready to orchestrate her speech. But Xristos spoke first.

He said, "So, what's weighing on you?"

"Well," Bastila began, "I may as well be blunt." She gathered herself, "Caius told me that you know…about me…and…Revan."

Xristos nodded quietly.

"So you do. Then the charade is up. What are you planning on doing, then?"

"Why, nothing malicious. What do you expect me do?"

"To report me to the Council—or whatever Jedi are left."

"And why would I do that?"

Here was the old man's frustrating tendency to answer questions with more questions. Bastila pursued him and said dejectedly, "Because love is forbidden. I broke the Jedi code…I failed as a Jedi. I deserve to be punished and corrected." Though she had thought this many times, she had never actually said it, or heard it verbalized in any fashion. Now that she did, the conversation was imbued with significant weight. This would determine her future as a Jedi.

Xristos was dismissive, said, "Of course not, surely you know me better than that?"

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Nothing," he said, finally giving a direct answer. "If anything, I encourage you whole-heartedly. Any time a Jedi sees through these moronic limitations and realizes how terribly _wrong _the Council is, I offer my enthusiastic support to them."

"This is not what I expected…but Caius said you were a liberal Jedi."

"Liberal is just a word, Bastila. I like to think of it as being smart."

"Why do you feel this way? Why are you against what the Jedi Code teaches?" she asked. Although she was still a bit concerned, she was curious as to what he believed—and why.

"Love," he said distantly. "It's a funny thing, isn't it?"

Bastila did not respond.

He continued, "There is not a more powerful or engrossing emotion than love. But there is so much more to it. It is the fuel that powers the universe—and yet…the Jedi would deny it of you. Why?"

"You know why," she said, trying to indicate that she wanted him to answer the questions, not the other way around. "Love is passion, it blinds us and through our confusion we fall to the dark side. It happened to me, it happened to Dustil. There are countless others: Nayama Bindo, the three hunters that stalked the terentatek, the list goes on. I don't doubt its truth—just that I violated it."

"And what if I told you that they were mistaken? That the Jedi are so far off from the correct doctrine in this instance that I believe only complete reform will save them from inadvertently dooming themselves to millennia of this circular pattern?"

"I'd say that you're speaking pretty boldly, and that you should have proof that this is so."

"I do," he said simply.

"So you want the Jedi to lift the ban on love?"

"Not only that—I want them to encourage it."

This was a very strong assertion. Bastila wanted to believe that he was right, for her own sake, but years of teaching otherwise demanded that she play the devil's advocate. She said, "How would you do that? How could you defy the ancient teachings?"

"Let's start at the beginning," he said, taking control of the conversation. "I want to talk about why I believe they put the ban on love. I think it is a result of a terrible and tragic misunderstanding."

Bastila swallowed, but did not talk—she let the man continue.

"It all hinges on this fact: love begins to be a demon only when it begins to be a god. When love is idolized and deified, pursued only for its own sake, and allowed to take control and dictate actions—then we have a problem. That is what the Jedi seek to guard against. When love is not raised to such an altar, then the issue resolves itself. The reverse is then true: love ceases to be a demon the moment it ceases to be a god. Once that happens, then you'll find that love is perfectly compatible—and, in fact, integral—to life as a true Jedi."

This was certainly a different take. Bastila tilted her head, said, "I don't follow. You said yourself that they banned it because it takes control and is glorified beyond what is practical. You've justified their reasoning."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head in a very paternal and gentle way, "that is not correct. The reason is that the Jedi, frankly, have no idea what love is. They find one aspect of it potentially dangerous and so they overreact and shut themselves off from it completely. This is a grievous fault."

"You still haven't really answered my question," Bastila interjected.

"I'm getting there, have patience, Bastila," he responded.

She chafed slightly at the rebuke, but then asked, "All right—so what is love?"

"It is everything, Bastila. It is a pure, elemental force in the galaxy. It predates life. It is the essential home within which life arose—without it we would be nothing. It is a field that binds everything together. The Force…is love. But not in the way you might think. It is _everywhere _and _everything_ that matters in this life."

"That's a pretty radical viewpoint," she said, "have you presented it to the Jedi before?"

He gave a dismayed sigh, said, "They don't listen to me. Now, let me continue." He cleared his throat. "Lovers who are enraptured by each other in love have achieved a degree of unity with the Force that very few others can, an irony of which the Jedi should be ashamed. But that is not the only form of love. It is just the most familiar. Most people think that there is only one love—the kind between a man and woman. I blame those degenerate holovids and avalanche of romance novels for that. Romantic love is a beautiful thing—but it is not the only thing."

"How many kinds of love are there, then?" asked Bastila. She admitted to herself that she was getting more interested in the conversation as it went on.

"By my count," Xristos said, "there are four. If our language were different, it would be easier to elaborate. But as it is not, I'll have to take some time to explain. Let me say first that the one the Jedi are afraid of is romantic love. When they leveled the ban against love that is what they had in mind. But they did not realize what they had done."

"You count four? I can't think of any others besides romantic love," said Bastila.

"They are so very often overlooked. But there are four kinds. Now…I hope you'll bear with me, I can go overboard when talking abut this."

Bastila smiled, though there was not enough light for Xristos to see her. She said, "Go on, I'll listen."

"The first is mere affection. I say 'mere' because it is love that is most often neglected. It's the kind of familial love that develops amid almost anyone and anything. Even animals can bear it for one another. People often are affectionate towards inanimate objects as well. It is a very wide-spread love, you will find it everywhere. Some people have it for everyone, but it is not limited to a certain group as the other kinds are. It is like gradually being accustomed to someone's character and then loving them not in spite of, but because of, their faults. Things that were initially aggravating or distracting about a person can become endearing. It is a very general love. Of course the Jedi never talk about it, even though they will exhibit it themselves, which makes them violators of their own code of mores."

Bastila figured she agreed with this, but it seemed that Xristos wasn't really proving anything. If, as he had stated, romantic love was what the Jedi had in mind when they forbade love, then why was he speaking of these other forms? She had already asked enough questions, however, and decided to just politely nod and let him continue.

He took a moment's rest and then continued, "But that is the least intrusive of loves. They get more problematic…in a…graduated sense. Anyway, next is friendship—which is obviously love of friends. This one, too, is often overlooked or dismissed. A lot of people don't even seem to think that there is love between friends at all. The Jedi seem to agree with this, but they are wrong. There is love. It is somewhat based on like mindedness, but it follows in the same pattern as affection. Friends are united in a common interest. Lovers may be face to face, looking at each other, but friends are side to side, looking upon a joint pleasure."

The old Jedi breathed deeply, the gray light sliding over the side of his face, and continued, "People are relational beings—we need other people. I doubt a man without friends would be able to function well—if at all—in society. We need friends. If only to bring out the whole of our personality." He cleared his throat. "We are never fully ourselves when we are by ourselves. It takes friends to pull out all the aspects of our personality. In each of my friends there is something that only one other friend can fully bring out. By myself, I am not large enough to bring my whole man into activity. It takes other friends to do that. Because of this, friendship is the least jealous of the loves. It offers itself to others in order to complete itself."

The old man was getting more and more enthusiastic as he spoke. Bastila noticed how animated he was becoming. He then said, "Take you, for instance. You are my friend. And I love you, Bastila. Friendship. You bring out a part of me that would otherwise remain hidden. You are like a daughter in that you are so young, and yet are listening to an old man like me discuss love and give advice. If I had a daughter, this is what I would be doing with her. Without friends, I would just be a lonely old man—thinking myself to death. Friendship is absolutely necessary to existence. Do the Jedi teach this? No."

Bastila was, for lack of a better word, touched by his comments. She realized how important it was to be told that she was loved. Even if it was a "brotherly" sort of love. No one had told her, before Revan, that they loved her—and after he had left, she was again uninformed. Obviously this was very different, but she liked hearing it. It was as though some part of personal dignity and worth had been denied her, and only now was she realizing it.

"Now," the old man continued, "we get to the most confusing—and rewarding—one: romantic love. Please interrupt me when I talk, though, I don't want to feel like I'm lecturing you." The last comment was almost a plea, and then he continued, "This is the most important love in terms of what they Jedi banned."

Bastila nodded in affirmation.

He picked up, "There is not really a good word in our language for this kind of love. Most of the words we know are fraught with double meanings—or they have lost their original meaning. For now, I'm going to refer to it as 'eros'."

"Eros? What kind of word is that, what does that mean?" she asked.

"Well, it is the root for our word 'erotic', if that helps."

"So, it is basically sex," she stated.

"No, only in part. Sex is the most obvious component of eros, but it is not the only thing. It is the love between a man and woman that is greater than just the physical act. Sexual desire, without eros, wants only _it_. Only sex. With eros, sexual desire wants the Beloved. It is that kind of desire, but it is for a specific person, not only for the feeling that comes with it. It's an unfortunate phrase that we use when we say that a lustful man is prowling the streets because he 'wants a woman'. Ironically, a woman is just what he doesn't want. He wants pleasure for which a woman happens to be the necessary apparatus. That is only sexual desire. Eros, however, through some mysterious functioning, makes a man not want a woman, but one _particular_ woman. And only her. Not just the pleasure that she can give. Do you see the difference?"

"Yes," she said. "But then this is the kind of love that you said the ban is really forbidding. How do you justify it? This _is _the kind that trips people and allows them to fall to the dark side."

Xristos nodded, said, "You are correct. And this is what brings me back to what I said in the beginning—that love becomes a demon when it becomes a god. That is what happens in this regard. Eros, honored without reservation and obeyed unconditionally then morphs from something wonderful into a demon—or a slavedriver. It makes the promises of a god, but it cannot fulfill them—only offering glimpses of what is truly sovereign: the Force."

Bastila wanted to interrupt, but she simply couldn't bring herself to do it.

"People often mistake the feeling of 'being in love' for the love itself, and they pursue that. When they do that, then they are lost. Eros will never provide that kind of perpetual euphoria, it never claims to, and then they will be disappointed at best or led terribly astray at worst. This is what the Jedi seek to avoid. But in their 'wisdom' they decided it would be better to bypass love altogether than deal with the tendency to idolize eros. How erroneous a decision! Can you think of anything more foolish? It is like deciding that because one will always get dirty, bathing is useless. We decide that bypassing bathing altogether will allow us to avoid the potentially hairy ramifications of being 'dirty', but surely this is…well…stupid."

"So then what is your final analysis? You're getting a bit circular here," Bastila said, hoping to redirect him to his point.

Xristos smiled, said, "Right, I'm sorry. I tend to get carried away. My point is that the Jedi, in seeking to avoid the problems that come with eros by banning love altogether, are terribly misguided. In reality, what they hope to ban is _being_ _in_ love. That is where they identify the danger, but they lump all sorts of love together and declare all of them anathema. So their restriction is, then, on falling in love, not on love itself."

"Perhaps if they'd be clearer we could avoid a lot of misunderstandings."

"It is possible, but I believe that banning 'falling in love' is just as hazardous. A young Jedi who inexplicably finds himself attracted to a woman he knows may incorrectly assume that he has fallen to the dark side. If he doesn't destroy himself mentally trying to eradicate the feeling, he'll end up actually _falling_ to the dark side because of it. What terrible irony! It's a catch-22."

The old man reclined in his seat, then waved his hand at Bastila, saying, "Suppose that happened to you? What if you ran off and joined the Sith, believing you'd fallen to the dark side, simply because the Jedi said that you did? In reality you could be a paragon of the Order—which you are. And yet they would tell you otherwise because you are simply behaving normally. All your talents and wisdom and intelligence would be in the hands of the enemy. That is why this teaching is such a tragedy, and why it is so dangerous."

"But then that makes being 'in love' the problem. That is when a Jedi is most susceptible to passion, and when a Jedi would be most susceptible to the dark side," said Bastila.

"No, what we need to do is purge our lexicon of that phrase. We must never again speak of love leading to the dark side. That is not a natural connection. It's a perverted hijacking of what being 'in love' means. If we never connect it to the dark side—if we simply treat it as a normal part of life, even for a Jedi—then the problem will be largely eliminated."

There was a brief pause as both of them considered what the other had said.

He then continued: "Being in love is a natural extention of love. Love, as distinct from 'being in love', is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity strengthened by habit and through reliance on, of all things, the Force. People who have this kind of love can have it for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other, just as you can love yourself even when you do not like yourself. It is on _this_ love that life is sustained, 'being in love' was just the explosion that started it."

"All of this sounds too improbable to achieve. Not that the Jedi would change their minds anyway," began Bastila, "but supposing you are right, how would someone manage to have that kind of love for such a long time?"

"It is, as I said, not a matter of feeling but of will," said the old man. "It's the state of the will we have naturally about ourselves, but must learn to have about other people."

"And then the fourth kind of love?" Bastila asked.

Xristos was enthusiastic, said, "The perfect time to introduce it. The final love is universal. It is a love for each and every person who lives. Unconditional love. One could call it charity, but it is far more than that. It is the kind of love that is both natural and unnatural. It is natural in that it is the greatest form of love there is, and it is unnatural in that it violates everything we know about humanity. Love your family members? That's easy. Friends? That too. Strangers? Not as easy. Enemies? Practically impossible. And yet…this…this is exactly what the Jedi teach. We are taught that our lives, as Jedi, are as sacrifice. We are meant to do whatever it takes to preserve peace and love, even to lay down our lives for it. That is the greatest, most loving sacrifice there is. The Jedi _teach _this. And yet at the same time they teach that love will lead to the dark side! How, then, can one learn to do this at all? Love in this fashion is learned through each of the other loves I have mentioned—especially eros. Unconditional love can only be achieved when the others are understood…and especially if they are not outright _banned_. Don't you see the illogicality? The Jedi teach us to grow a tree without any roots. It is absurd. They'll tell us to do these things, but while condemning love. You could do the greatest acts in the galaxy, but without love, what would it be?"

"I…I don't know," Bastila admitted.

"It would be an unharmonized noise, Bastila. Clanging cymbols. Smashing rocks. Nails on a chalkboard. It would be action devoid of any soul or meaning."

The conversation was taking a long time. They were covering almost every conceivable angle concerning love. And yet…though it was not helping their mission at all, Bastila loved every minute of it. It was as though she were looking at herself—and at Revan—for the first time. Or, at least, the first time that she wasn't subconsciously condemning herself.

Was what Xristos said true? Maybe. He was a verbose old man, like most, and she was uncertain whether she really agreed with him. But she was certain that she wanted him to be right. She wanted this love to be good and natural and helpful to her. And then that's when it hit her.

_I do still love Revan_, she thought. _I love Revan—even if I am not in love with him._

But now this admission was less horrifying than it would have been merely an hour ago. She was okay with it. She did not have to lie to herself any longer. Argument and philosophy went out the window, she was just in a state of calm.

"I still love Revan," she said out loud. Xristos looked on with interest. "But I don't know what to do about it now."

"I know," he said gently, "But there isn't anything you _can _do right now. You'll just have to wait and see if you find him, and if so, you'll know what to do."

"But what if we never find him?"

"Then at least you know what you feel. And, as they say, 'it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'."

"Is that what you believe?" she asked. And then it dawned on her. How was it that this Jedi was purporting to be able to speak so authoritatively on love? She then asked, "How do you know this much about love? Have you loved and lost as well? Surely you can't be speaking on this topic in…well…ignorance."

Xristos's pleasant aura dimmed quickly. He slouched forward slightly, just enough to be noticed. He was more somber than before. He said, "Yes. I did. It is a long story, and we've spent enough time talking for now. You should get some sleep before tomorrow."

Bastila then found herself yawning, she said, "You are right. But I have to know. Will you tell me the story? I need to know where you're drawing this knowledge. Is it experience?"

"Yes," he said. "I'll tell you the story tomorrow. I promise. But for now, I've found myself tired as well."

Bastila was ready to leave, but before she left, she had to ask something that had only just immediately occurred to her. She asked, "Did you ever know a man named Jolee Bindo?"

Xristos leaned back and thought on it for a moment, then said, "I met him once. We spoke briefly, but I know he was killed in the purge and I never got a chance to see him again."

"You would've liked him," Bastila said, "he thought like you do. And he had loved and lost…like us."

"That he did," responded Xristos. "I didn't necessarily agree with everything Jolee thought, but he, from what I can tell, was a good man. The galaxy is emptier without him."

Bastila stood up slowly. She was tired, but now more at ease. She felt she could actually find rest. She nodded and said, "It is emptier, but now I see that he was right—and I think…maybe…you are too." She then bade Xristos goodnight, and he said he was going to stay in the cockpit and meditate for a bit longer.

Just as she was on the way out, she turned and said, "Xristos—thank you."

"Anytime," was his response.

Bastila then shuffled off to the dorms. Allie was still sleeping soundly. The Jedi then collapsed on her own bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Caius's night was not as soothing as Bastila's. Once again he was being haunted by dreams of his past. He had hoped that since he had learned the truth about his connection to Elliott he would not have to worry about the grotesque flashbacks, but such was not the case. As with many nights past, Caius was forced to relive part of the war. And it never got any easier.

_The ship held in orbit, just before the final assault on Malachor was to begin. The soon-to-be Exile was much younger then. His face was less worn, he had a full head of hair, and he had not yet received the scar below his right eye that he now bore. He sat on a cushioned bench in his officer's quarters, weighing a small envelope in his hand. It was such a light thing for all of its prestige, and he did not want to have it. _

"_Look at you," said a voice from a few feet to his left, "another star! You're moving up in the world."_

_Caius looked to his left and beheld the imposing figure of his friend Marcus Celer. The first thing one noticed when seeing Marcus was his size—he was almost six and a half feet tall, a good head taller than Caius. But the two had been together since before the war, having been friends since their induction into the Jedi Order. Marcus was Malak to his Revan—they worked as a tandem, Marcus functioning as the imposing enforcer and Caius as the more subdued leader. They fit well together in Caius's brigade, but now he was being promoted to Major General, leaving Marcus—who had never progressed past Colonel—further behind him. Although the man insisted otherwise, Caius knew there was a bit of jealousy—he did not really appreciate Caius giving him orders with such frequency._

"_I didn't even want the first star," said the newly promoted General._

"_Well, someone thinks you're worth a promotion," said Marcus. Aside from his noticeable height, he had a stern, unshaven face and bright blue eyes. His black hair was unkempt, but not long._

"_Why do they even give these to Jedi?" asked Caius. "It's not as if we can wear them on our shoulders—we don't even wear uniforms."_

_Marcus shrugged, said, "Don't ever tell the Republic to buck convention. They'll never do it. When you think about it…they're rather backwards."_

_Generally the two men agreed with each other, causing some to refer to them as twins or brothers, as they almost always sided with each other. But in this instance Caius was not in agreement. He said, "Not as backwards as the Mandalorians."_

_Marcus blew out slowly, said, "No, I suppose not. But still, it makes you think. Maybe after this war we can change the Republic—try to tear down all these old, bloated traditions."_

"_I don't want to do that—I only want to win this war and go home. I'll leave politics to the politicians."_

_The large man laughed slightly, said, "I think politicians are the least capable people to handle politics."_

_Caius laughed, "Maybe."_

_Marcus strode past him, his brown robes flowing behind him, and went to look out the small viewport nearby. He said, "But we won't have to worry too long. The war is almost over. We'll defeat the Mandalorians soon." He looked back at Caius, "We'll kill the bastards. Yes we will—and then it'll be over."_

"_You sound like you would enjoy it…" said Caius hesitantly._

"_I would," replied Marcus with gravity, "I hate them."_

"_You shouldn't hate them," said Caius, "we're not supposed to."_

"_And yet I feel perfectly fine hating them—because they deserve it. And defeating them is necessary—for the greater good."_

_Caius was more than a little unnerved by these comments; he wondered what had come over his friend. To act this way was not like him. He said simply, "I don't hate them."_

"_Then you're a better man than I," replied Marcus. He then gestured to the envelope in Caius's hands, said, "Must be why you're being promoted and I'm not."_

"_Don't tell me you're jealous of this…" Caius stated, "I don't even want it. It's just a stupid piece of metal—it doesn't mean anything to a Jedi."_

"_No," coughed Marcus, "Of course not."_

"_Why are you acting this way?"_

_There was a pause. Marcus looked away, out the viewport again, then said, "It's nothing. I'm just tired. I want this to be over. Soon…it will. And then we can go back to normal."_

_Caius did not say anything._

"_Look," said Marcus as he walked towards him, "don't worry about it. I'm happy for you, really. When this war is over we can just put this little disagreement behind us. We're just…so close. I can feel it."_

_There was something in his demeanor that unsettled Caius, but he could not pin down what it was. He had no idea where these opinions and thoughts were coming from. The antithetical logic his friend was using was utterly foreign to him. He simply did not understand it._

_Marcus walked closer to him, smiled and said, "All right. I have to go back to my regiment—I'm being reassigned. I didn't want to tell you, but they're moving me out of your division. Don't know why—bureaucratic, I guess."_

_Caius thought that this must be why his friend was acting so weird. He just managed to say, "Oh."_

"_But it doesn't matter. The war will be over in a few days. Then all of us can go home."_

_Caius sighed, said, "You're right." He did not like that his friend was leaving, though—he had come to depend on him, and found his support invaluable._

"_I'm headed to a different ship—so I suppose I'll have to catch up with you later."_

_Caius stood up and nodded._

_His friend extended his hand and Caius shook it. Marcus said, "See you on the other side, brother."_

"_Good luck, Marcus," replied Caius._

_Marcus Celer then turned and left, walking briskly out of the room. It was the last time Caius would ever see him._

_

* * *

_

The Exile woke up. He did not jolt awake or fly out of his bunk as many do when waking from such unpleasant dreams; he only slowly became aware of his consciousness. Eventually he sat up and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. The details of the dream then started coming back to him. He remembered being confused at the time why Marcus had seemed so against the Republic. Over time he had determined that it was Revan's influence. A lot of the Jedi began to take a very Sith-like attitude towards the end of the war, under Revan's guidance, and this was the reason they followed him after Malachor.

Marcus had not had the opportunity. When the Mass Shadow Generator had been activated, Marcus's ship—with his new regiment aboard—had been within the event horizon. The ship was crushed, and Caius felt the loss of life through the Force. As with most people he met, Caius had bonded with Marcus. His death, along with the millions of others who perished, had caused him to lose his connection to the Force. Even in death, Marcus had turned Caius away from the Jedi—as he had effectively ceased being a part of the Order that day. He shed his idealistic beliefs as well.

He never really got over the death of his friend, though, and he felt that he was culpable for it, even though Bao-Dur had assured him otherwise. Still, the guilt was there—and it would never go away.

"Morning" came sooner than expected. Since this planet had the same time of day always, it was hard to tell how long the crew had been asleep. Caius, being the first to wake, made his way out of the dorms and into the main hold. He eventually succeeded by Allie. Everyone else woke up at roughly the same time.

Out in the main hold, Caius was talking to Elliott and Allie. He asked, "So what do we do now?"

"We keep trying to fix the ship," said Allie. "Whatever needs doing."

Bastila and Xristos arrived with T3, completing the unofficial crew meeting. There was some idle chatter, and then they all scavenged for some breakfast. Just as they finished eating, Bastila's comm burst to live again. It was broken by static, but they could tell that it was HK speaking. His voice sounded unnaturally hurried, and distressed.

It crackled, and they could only pick out every other word, "-47 reporting. We have…Sith Lord…transmitting emergency coordinates…too late…Dustil…I will kill the meatbags…outnumbered…Master, Dustil has been…." It then broke off.

There was stunned silence. Not one of the crew spoke to each other. The silence continued, and was only broken when HK's recording began playing again, apparently on loop. Still they said nothing. The message was too confusing, and too scary. They listened a second time. Was this true? What would they do?

At long last, someone spoke. And it was what everyone was thinking.

"Damn it," said Elliott.

_A/N: So, I think I definitely went too far on the love evaluation. I think there was something like 4,000 words devoted to that part alone. Sorry about that. However, if any of you actually __liked__ it, I have to admit that a good portion of that discussion is not my own analysis. __**DISCLAIMER: **__I borrowed about half of that spiel from other sources, namely C.S. Lewis's __The Four Loves__, __Mere Christianity__, and several of his personal letters; there are also a few brief homages to John the Evangelist's First Epistle and the Apostle Paul's Letter to the Corinthians. Sorry if any of you are annoyed or put-off by that, but I didn't want to take credit for ideas that are not my own. This is fanfiction, though, so I think that this kind of borrowing should be expected, I hope. So...in conclusion...yeah /long disclaimer rant_


	16. Chapter 15

Author's Notes: Thanks, once again, to my trio of loyal reviewers. You guys are awesome, you know who you are. I generally do a lot of editing after getting your reviews to try to adjust the characters based on your advice. It's really helpful, so thank you. Now, here's the next update. I promise I won't ever go into a giant philosophical exposition like the last chapter ever again. There will still be some philosophy, maybe, but it will never be that long. Just brief things. I hope I didn't chase away any readers because of that... heh.

BTW, is anyone else really pissed off about Bioware whoring out KotOR and making it an MMO? It was confirmed yesterday, so they've pretty much driven a stake into KotOR III. Which means this story is as close as I'll ever get to finding out what happens. (Sigh) Enough of that, though. Here you go; thanks and enjoy!

**Chapter Fifteen**

"What the hell do we do now?" asked Elliott after hearing the message

"I don't know," said Caius. "But we can't just sit here."

Allie said nervously, "But there's a Sith Lord out there! What _can_ we do?"

"I've dealt with Sith Lords before," said Caius bluntly. It sounded arrogant, but it was certainly true.

"You may have," said Xristos, "but has anyone else. Bastila?"

Bastila shook her head, "Only if you count Revan."

"Well," Elliott said, "you can't get much more powerful than that, right?"

Bastila disagreed, she said, "What? No…you can. Revan is not the strongest Jedi ever, but everyone seems to think he is the single most powerful person in existence."

"If he's not, then who is?" Elliott asked.

"What? I don't know!" said Bastila. "It's not as if there's a master list of the best Jedi!"

"We're getting distracted," said Xristos, trying to bring order. "And we certainly can't get into stupid arguments that have nothing to do with our situation. Now: what are our options?"

Caius shrugged, said, "We can sit here or we can investigate."

Elliott then said, "Oh _no_, I'm not going _anywhere_. You all can go find Dustil—I'm staying right here. Where it's safe."

"If there is a Sith Lord on this planet," said Bastila, "then nowhere is safe. And since we can't leave, then we're going to have to deal with him sooner or later. It's probably a good idea to do it sooner."

"What about Dustil?" asked Allie. "Do you think he was captured?"

"It's possible," said Xristos, "if so—I don't know what will happen to him."

"If these Sith are anything like the one's we're familiar with," said Caius, "then they'll hold him hostage in order to lure us to them. And then they'll spring a trap."

"Can we be sure of that?" asked Xristos.

"No," answered Caius, "but we will find out."

"Are you all crazy?" said Elliott, "we can't go wandering straight into a Sith Lord's trap! We'll get massacred!"

"We are not leaving Dustil," Bastila said forcefully. The promise she had made to Carth was ringing in her ears. "Our mission goes out the window now. This is a matter of saving a friend—we have to find Dustil, whether he's dead or alive."

Elliott did not argue the point, he asked instead, "Do I have to go? What about the ship, can we leave her here unguarded?"

"I think we have no choice," said Caius. "We need everyone if we're going on a rescue mission. Even if that means leaving the _Hawk _behind. If we're lucky, the Sith will go behind our backs and try to commandeer her—then they'll explode." He hoped they understood that he was not serious with that last comment.

Bastila frowned, said, "You know as well as I that they won't do that. This Sith Lord will wait for us. He'll no doubt be able to pull some information out of Dustil, and he'll know that if we haven't left this planet already, then that means we can't."

"The same goes for him, then," said Xristos, "he is also stuck here."

"Whatever the details," said Bastila, "we're going to find Dustil…now."

* * *

Dustil Onasi was imprisoned in the open. No cell, no shackles, no bars or walls. Nothing. He was simply standing on the ground outside of the terrible wreck of the Sith ship that he had helped shoot down. There were crates and other things assembled around him, some inactive (or perhaps broken) droids.

But he could not move. He was in complete paralysis. He did not know if this was done by the Force, or by some sort of device—but the fact remained, he was completely immobile. Even his eyes could not move. He was permanently frozen in place. All he could do was breath and blink, somehow the paralysis allowed that. His senses still worked as well, he could see and hear.

And he felt cold. The snow was falling gently around him, as the Sith ship had crashed into the massive polar cap on the planet's hemisphere opposite the sun. The vessel was smashed into several pieces, broken apart over the snowy landscape. From what he and HK had gathered before they had been spotted, most of the Sith on board had been killed in the crash. But there were still several alive, more than the _Hawk_'s crew for certain. There also were several war droids that appeared intact.

The sole hope that Dustil had was that of HK. The droid had escaped when he had been captured, and he only could pray that the psychotic machine had been able to get a distress call off to the _Ebon Hawk_. Then maybe he would live.

But his hopes were dashed. Just as he had been thinking about the droid, he saw two of the surviving Sith making their way towards their haphazardly arranged camp. They were struggling to carry something with them, once they got into Dustil's very limited field of vision, he saw that they were dragging the hulking orange droid with them. He was disabled. Or perhaps destroyed.

Suddenly a voice slithered into his head. It was a sickening feeling. There was no external voice to which he could attribute the sound. It was something inside his head. It was a hollow sound, no blood in the words. But even those he could not figure out. The voice was not communicating in a recognizable language, but in ideas and images. And yet…he understood it.

"_Your droid has been a nuisance_," it said. "_It killed three of my men in a firefight. And then melted another as they attempted to subdue it_. _But it may be of use to me. Once you and your friends are dead, I will take this machine back to our homeworld and present it to my Lord as a gift._"

_Severus,_ thought the young man. Dustil wished he could move, but all he could do was stare straight ahead. Eventually, however, the being that owned the voice entered his peripheral. Had he not been paralyzed, he would've cowered in fear.

Before him stood the Sith Lord. Its dark mask was smiling in a mockingly grotestque fashion, as though it was spurning the very feeling of joy. On top of the Sith's mask was a black plume, like a frayed broom, that arched horizontally over his head. The rest of the Sith was cloaked in a dark robe, covering the Sith's entire body.

"_And soon you all will be dead_," spoke Lord Cyaxares. Despite the fact that it was now in front of him, Dustil could still feel the voice within his head. They were communicating telepathically.

"_Do not fear. Your friends will come for you. That is part of this strategy. Your droid told them precisely where to go. Once they arrive, they will be ambushed and destroyed. And then you will have no one to save you. But do not think I will be foolish enough to leave you alive. Should they somehow come here, you will be quite dead. As of now, your only use is information. Answer these questions, and your death will be less painful_." There was a pause in the communication. The Sith Lord was almost as unmoving as Dustil was. Then the Sith Lord turned around to face another Sith who was standing behind him. As he moved, Dustil watched as its face changed. The Sith had _two_ masks on—one of the front of his head, and one on the back. The second mask bore a mutilated frown and tragic, empty eyes.

Dustil wanted nothing more than to be able to run away, but he was still frozen, encased in a shell. His body was in an uncomfortable position, as he had been stalled in the middle of an action. His right arm was extended outwards, and his left was brought up close to his chest. His face was very stoic and stiff. But Dustil could not feel any of it.

He looked on at the Sith Lord. He could not even really determine which way he was facing. He did not know which mask had eyes behind it, and which one did not. They were equally enigmatic.

Lord Cyaxares said something in an alien language—the now-familiar horrid gurgling that was the Sith language. As soon as he spoke, half a dozen battle droids—apparently all that had survived the crash—mobilized. They formed a line and began marching.

The Sith Lord, the sad mask still looking at him, said in Dustil's mind, "_We have found your companions. I will deal with them shortly. But as for you_."

He strode up smoothly to Dustil, the tragic mask facing him still, opposite of when he had been speaking to him previously. Cyaxares then said, "_Let us begin._"

* * *

All six of the _Ebon Hawk_ crew—including T3—moved slowly out of the steppe and into decrepit old ruins.

"Dustil was right," said Caius. "There was a civilization here once."

The rest did not speak. They eventually graduated from the harsh steppe to what felt like an ancient road. It was still there as there was no vegetation to grow over it. There was a vast network of ebony structures, made out of a substance that none of them recognized. There were doric columns and remnants of the foundations of what must have been buildings, but there were very few intact structures. Wind howled loudly through the cavernous ruins, whistling through the openings and generating a positively erie feeling. A web of roads spread throughout the area, and they followed whichever ones seemed to lead towards the crash site of the Sith ship.

"I wonder how any race could've survived here," Xristos said. "It seems too inhospitable."

"I thought so too," said Bastila. "I have no idea."

The ruins they found, though odd, were not numerous. And most of them were destroyed. The single unifying characteristic was the color, everything was black—an unholy chasm of darkness. The absolute finality of the blackness was a little unsettling to them, and it smacked of the dark side of the Force.

Caius changed the subject, he asked, "How long do you think it'll take us to get there?"

"Well," said Xristos, "it took Dustil almost a day. Even though we won't get as tired because of this light gravity, it'll still take a while. Best not to go too fast and tire ourselves out. We'll get there in due time."

"And what do we plan to do once we get there?" the Exile asked. "Just tell them we want Dustil back?"

"Yes," Bastila said sarcastically.

Caius decided not to pursue that conversation further. It was obvious the situation was that of a "we'll cross the bridge when we come to it" scenario.

The crew walked in silence for a while. The only noise that was not drowned out by the screeching wind was the perpetual scuffling of feet and T3'a mechanical whirring. They approached what seemed to be a hill, and began ascending it via the beaten road. It was high enough to impede their vision, and Caius guessed there was a valley on the other side, as he could vaguely determine that the high mountains were far past them.

He did not expect what they found, however.

Once they summitted the hill, they were awestruck with what laid before them.

"Wow," was all any of them could say.

Before them was the skeleton of a huge city. The very bones of an old civilization that had ceased to exist. No plants had grown over them, and nothing seemed to have disturbed the place in millennia. There was merely a graveyard of obsidian structures, stretching from where they stood all the way to the base of a nearby mountain range—into the snowy cap of the planet's outer hemisphere.

"This is incredible," said Bastila. "These ruins are so…alien, so…strange."

Indeed they were. The expanse was unlike anything they had ever seen. Even the Rakatan ruins were dissimilar. These things were fundamentally different than any sort of buildings or structures they had ever witnessed. There were some unnaturally tall and thin black points that stood from the ground. They were the highest of the ruins, but everything was built in a similar fashion. Everything had a disproportionately small base for such tall ruins. They just looked awkward. There were flatter things, but with odd polygonal shapes. There were also classical pillars with very narrow bases and some of them bore imprinted reliefs of some kind of art on their heads.

"How is it that all the ruins are shaped this way?" asked Bastila.

"The weak gravity," answered Xristos, "it doesn't pull on the buildings as much. I suspect if there were trees on this planet, they would be unnaturally tall and thin as well."

Looking out over the graveyard was almost a religious experience. It was like beholding some holy, untouched, and unseen land. Something that no one knew existed; something that had the power to validate life and existence. Everything was so…raw and primeval. It was not something one could see, but feel. But there was also a dark undercurrent to the awesome exterior.

Bastila had felt it. She said, "The dark side is strong here. It sits on this city like a taint, drowning everything in its power, strangling it. Something horrible happened here once."

"I feel it too," said Xristos, "let's hope it's not a bad omen."

They resumed their quest once they had appropriately beheld the sight. It was truly incredible, but they had to move on. Downwards they strolled, on towards the 'city'. They would have to navigate it if they were to get to the Sith crash site. Caius wondered if this was the 'proof' Dustil was talking about when he said there was evidence of life on the planet. But he wondered why he didn't say he found a city. Perhaps he did not have the opportunity.

The trek was taking a long time, and the relative silence of the crew was making the journey feel eternal. Xristos and Bastila were in the front of the tour, and Caius, Allie, and Elliott brought up the rear. Allie was very quiet, her arm apparently not bothering her, though she still was wearing the sling. Xristos had advised her to keep it for at least a little while longer. Elliott looked like he was going to die of boredom. Caius found this notion strange, considering they were crashed on a foreign planet—but Elliott seemed to find the situation somewhat uninspiring.

Elliott decided to alleviate his unhappiness with small talk. He said, "Hey Bastila—earlier you said that Revan is not the most powerful Jedi. If not, then why are we looking for him?"

"Because," said Bastila as she trudged along in front, "he holds the key to defeating the Sith. We need him to preserve the safety of the Republic."

"The why not have someone more capable do this?"

"Do what? Our job or Revan's?" she asked.

"Revan's," answered Elliott.

"There isn't anyone more capable," she said flatly. "Revan is the best man for this. He knows more about the Sith than anyone alive. And he has more war and strategic experience than anyone else. That is where his ability lies."

Xristos agreed, said, "There is a public myth that Revan is the Force incarnate. Bastila's right that he is not, but that is not to say that he isn't powerful. His is just a different power. He was never the greatest duelist or the most adept Force user. But he was smart, he was adaptive, and he was brave. He also has what the common people call 'luck', but what we Jedi recognize as the mark of the Force. The Force is truly with him, and that is why he is so vital. Not because he is somehow divine—that is surely untrue."

"So…" said Elliott unsurely, "he…_is_…the most powerful man in the galaxy?"

"Yes and no—is the answer," said Bastila. "He is the most gifted, but he is the most powerful; not in the way everyone understands power to be."

Caius added, "Kreia said that Revan was the 'Heart of the Force'."

"That is…lofty praise," said Xristos.

"Yeah, well," said Caius, "if Kreia said it, it's probably a lie."

Unfortunately, Atton was not there to appreciate the joke. Everyone else just shot him a confused glare. Even Allie regarded him oddly. He wished he had someone around who understood what he meant.

They continued their walk through the skeletal city, once again devolving into quiet. There were parts of the city that were very exposed, and through the wreckage and dead buildings they could see for miles. At least, as far as the perpetual gray haze would allow. Caius found his eyes wandering the countryside at one point, and he found something unbelievable.

"What the hell is that?" he cried out at random.

In the distance, he saw a mysterious phantom. But as hard as he tried to look _at_ it, he could not see it. Only when he looked away could he discern its presence. But out of his peripheral vision, he could not tell exactly what it was. All he thought he could see was something tall and spindly. A transluscent specter that floated over the ground and through the ruins of the great city. As best as he could tell, it resembled a walking jungle tree—an indistinguishable collection of limbs and cloth and pale color. But when he looked straight at it, he saw only a faded light.

"What the hell is what?" Elliott asked.

Caius was merely pointing and stammering, "There was…something…over there!" He gestured towards the distant horizon.

"I don't see anything," Elliott stated.

"Neither…do I," Bastila said with him. "Are you sure you aren't just seeing things?"

"I'm positive. There was a ghost over there, or a spirit. But when you looked right at it, it would disappear."

"It wasn't the Sith Lord, was it?" asked Xristos.

"No, no I don't think so. I don't know what it was."

"I still see nothing," said Xristos. "Perhaps we should rest. You might be seeing things as a result of fatigue."

"I'm telling you," Caius said forcefully, "it was there."

"Be that as it may," Xristos assented, "we should probably take a break anyway—we've been walking since morning."

"Great, I'm starving," said Elliott.

With that, Bastila beckoned to T3. The little droid had been tugging along with some supplies for them. A little food and medicine. They had taken out the blasters in his weapons compartments and stuffed it with these amenities instead. The little droid was almost useless in a firefight anyway, they figured they would be better served this way.

The food, though, was terrible. It was a plain, hard concoction. Basically condensed nutrients made into edible form. It tasted like paper.

They all sat down on the ground in a circle. The only speaking that went on during the first part of the 'meal' was that of Elliott complaining about the food. He griped until everyone was sick of it, but it was surprisingly Allie who responded. She said quickly and loudly, "Shut up!"

"Those are the first words you've said in a long time," Caius said, echoing what everyone was thinking.

She shrugged, giving an innocent look, said, "I couldn't take it anymore. Let's talk about…something else."

Bastila then remembered of her conversation with Xristos the previous night. She used the opportunity to remind him of it. She said somewhat vaguely, "Xristos, do you remember the promise you made last night?"

He thought for a brief moment, then said, "That I do. And I'm a man of my word."

Before he could go on, Elliott interjected, "Whoa! Xristos, don't just marry her because you got her pregnant! You're age difference is bad enough!"

No one was pleased at the last remark. Bastila's fists were clenched, and if looks could kill, Elliott would have been impaled on the end of a pike. Xristos's mouth just dropped—hanging there in shock. Allie frowned and shook her head. Caius made a fist and threw a half-punch at Elliott's head, at which the man covered his face and ducked down.

"You crossed the line, jackass," Caius said to the pilot as he rolled to his feet a yard or two away. "That wasn't funny."

"I thought it was," he said.

"Why must you be such a _child_?" Bastila shouted angrily, standing up and putting some physical momentum into her words.

"Let's not start," said Xristos. "He's not worth your anger, Bastila."

She muttered something and then sat down on a small rock, looking at her feet.

"What she _was_ talking about," began Xristos, "was a question she asked me earlier. She wanted to know why I have different views than other Jedi about love, and I told her that it was a long story but I promised I'd tell it later." He looked at Elliott, "Do you understand?"

Elliott lit a cigarette, inhaled, and then said, "Sure."

"Don't smoke that near me," shot Bastila. "Go stand over there."

Elliott put his hands up in submission and backed several yards away.

Xristos continued, said, "Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any. But we can't just sit around while Dustil is gone—we're done eating, so let's walk. I'll talk as we go."

The crew obliged and began walking, giving T3 back the remnants of food. The old Jedi then took a deep breath before he started. The rest of the crew stood side to side, with Xristos in the middle, so as to hear.

He said, "The reason I'm so opposed to their doctrine is that I…once had a wife."

There was mild shock exhibited by the others—save for Bastila, who had suspected this.

"I thought Jedi aren't allowed to marry?" Allie asked. She glanced quickly at Caius as she asked, but then looked away once they made eye contact.

"We're not," the old man said flatly.

"So it's like Jolee," Bastila said.

"Not quite," replied Xristos. "I broke no rules—you see, I was married before I joined the Order."

"How is that possible?" Caius asked, a bit stupefied.

Xristos smirked, understanding the confusion. He answered, "Because I did not join the Jedi until I was twenty-six years old."

"This is a little hard to believe," said Bastila, "the Order would never accept someone as old as that. Even if you were Force sensitive."

"You're right—they didn't. But that didn't stop my master—Dann Gallen—from training me. He thought it was unfair that they deny me because of my age. So he trained me in secret."

"That is…odd," said Bastila, "but then what happened to your wife?"

Xristos cleared his throat, said, "All right. Now I have to tell the story. Reliving it is painful, but I see I must tell you all." He took a breath, said, "It starts where I was born, a backwater planet—barely part of the Republic. I was raised in a poor family. My father died when I was young, so I had to take a job working at a local droid shop in order to help my mother raise my brothers and sisters. I did this for years eventually paying my way through school. The shop fell into my hands when the owner died and left it to me, so I actually had a decent business on my hands. At least as far as that kind business goes. It was during this time that I met my wife, Aria. I was only twenty-one when I married her, and she was the same age. We were young, and stupid, but we were in love—there is no denying that."

There was another pause, the crew taking several strides on the road as he stopped. Once he spoke again, he said, "We were married for three years before it happened. I was coming home from work, and when I got to our apartment I noticed the front door was unlocked. It was also open slightly. I was confused, but I went inside nonetheless. Once…inside, I saw all of our furniture was turned over and there were things all over the floor. Broken appliances, loose papers, things like that. Instantly I knew we'd been burglarized."

He took a deeper breath, continued, "I ran through the house to see if any rooms were untouched, but none were. I could not find my wife, I figured she had gone out and accidentally left the door unlocked—allowing the burglar in. I went into our bedroom last, as it was in the back of the apartment." His voice quivered slightly, an emotional response that Caius had never expected from the usually placid old man. He said shakily, "and that's…where I found her."

"She was…dead?" Bastila tried to fill in.

Xristos just nodded solemnly.

"Oh, Xristos, that's awful!" said Allie.

Bastila was apologetic, she said, "Oh…I didn't think…I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to have to talk about this."

"It's been forty years," said Xristos, "pretending it never happened is not going to do anything. But that doesn't mean it isn't…hard. The most difficult thing is never being able to say goodbye to her. I mean, I said goodbye that morning as I went to work, but that's not the same. I had no idea it would be the last time…that's what makes it so painful. It's like there is no absolution. She was there…and then she was gone. And I didn't even get to see her again."

Even Elliott was somber as a result of the story. He did not speak.

Xristos continued, "But that was how I ended up as a Jedi. You see, fate had it that a Jedi Master—Master Gallen—was in town that day. And there were _never_ Jedi there. He came by my apartment to offer condolences and investigate. I don't know why he was on planet, but he apparently had time to look into a murder case. When he met me, though, that's when he said I was a Force adept. I had no idea, really, I didn't even know what he meant. Several months later he turned up again and tried to get me to go to Coruscant—he wanted me to join the Order. Naturally they refused. I thought that was it, and I wanted to go back to my home and business. But he was not dissuaded. He insisted on training me himself, so I let him. Eventually, I made enough progress for him to try to convince the Order to let me in again. They were not happy with his behavior—they demoted him to Knight—but they allowed me to join, figuring that it would be dangerous to let me wander around outside the Order if I had control over the Force."

He sighed, said, "And that is how I became a Jedi. But I vowed never to let my wife be forgotten. I believe she would want me to resist the Jedi to continue teaching that love is of the dark side. And she would be ashamed of me if I did not. I hope she approves of what I am doing, but I've tried my best to say what I think. Love is not an enemy to be feared, but an ally to be embraced." And with that, his tale was over.

Allie asked, "What was your wife like?"

"She was smarter than me," he said with a laugh, "she always had to put up with my poor business decisions, and then she'd try to fix them. She was kind, though. Probably the nicest person I've ever met. That's not to say we did not have our issues with each other, everyone does, but it's part of growing and maturing. This is why I advocate love to the Jedi—nothing helps a person grow more, mature more, than having to deal with someone else. Loving someone is not easy, but it makes adults. The Jedi forget that."

A solemn agreement fell over the troupe, and they spoke no more. Instead they each fell into probing their own thoughts.

Elliott's mind wandered, and Allie was unsure of what to make of the conversation. She knew that Jedi forbade love, but, as an outsider, Xristos's ideas did not seem that revolutionary to her.

Bastila, more and more, was inclined to agree with him. She did not know what this meant for her and Revan, and whatever future they had, but she did know that this absolved some of the guilt she had. Whatever else, she _wanted_ Xristos to be right. But deep down, she heartily agreed with him. And it was then that her transformation was complete. She had gone all the way from being a traditional, ultra-fundamentalist Jedi before meeting Revan, all the the way to a 'free-thinking', self described 'liberal' Jedi. Surely Revan would laugh if he ever found out.

Caius, not having heard the deep discussion between Bastila and Xristos the night before, was rather stunned at Xristos's musings. He had never heard anyone advocating love before. Sure, he had heard _of_ it, but he had never met anyone who did so. Even the infamous Jolee Bindo, who had a reputation for thinking outside of the box.

What surprised him was the astounding sense of Xristos's thoughts, but also how applicable they seemed. No wonder the old man had been so pressing about Allie on Scythia. And then Caius realized that he still had not confronted Allie about this…thing. Of course now was not a good time, but he would have to do it. Unfortunately, his resolve was crumbling. Should he still tell her he wants nothing to do with her? That was, he admitted, not exactly true. He didn't really know what to say. _No_, he thought, _I'll figure out to say once I get there. For now, we have to find Dustil_.

He hoped Dustil was still alive, but the odds seemed against it. Their strategy of walking to the Sith ship was rather absurd, but there really weren't any other options. They would rescue Dustil, and then they would see I they could fix the ship. If Dustil was…gone…then they would have to figure out a way to fix the ship anyway. But he certainly did not like their predicament. And wandering through the chillingly vacant city—and seeing ghostly specters in the distance—was not his idea of a good time.

Two or three more times he thought he saw the mysterious floating things, but he did not voice his concerns. No one had believed him the first time, and it was unlikely that they would change their minds. If they saw the phantoms, they would say so.

Through the desolate wastes they walked, wondering about the civilization that had once occupied the ruins. After almost an hour of walking, and making seemingly little progress, Caius saw something. But these were different things. Several hundred yards in front of them were half a dozen or so humanoid, bipedal beings. They were solid, and very certainly there. And they seemed to be approaching them.

Caius instinctively squinted to make out what they were, but could not figure it out. They _were _moving—and that could not be a good sign.

There was a flash of gunpowder.

"Get down!" Caius yelled, using the Force to push Elliott out of the way. A hail of bullets tore into the ground where he had been standing.

The unmistakable sound of lightsabers igniting followed. Caius held his single, blue blade tightly, and Xristos had his green one ready. Bastila, having switched styles after her traumatic expierience during the Civil War, gripped two blue weapons, one in each hand.

_War droids_, Caius thought. And the Jedi charged towards their attackers.

* * *

Lord Cyaxares was pulling all the information he wanted out of Dustil. There was nothing the young Jedi could do but divulge everything. What made the interrogation even more difficult was that Dustil could not speak. In order to lie one has to be able to talk, but Cyaxares merely combed through Dustil's mind, retrieving any truths he happened to find.

When the Sith Lord would ask a question, his voice booming within his head, Dustil would immediately think of the answer. It was impossible not to. That is how a lie works—one thinks the answer, but says something false. Dustil could not. He merely thought the answer.

Lord Cyaxares learned everything about the _Ebon Hawk_ and her crew in the short time he had invaded Dustil's mind. He learned that Carth Onasi and Valiens Nantaris were the men chiefly behind the mission. He learned that they were intending to go to Malacandra. He learned that they had just left Scythia. He learned that the exile Jedi and a woman were getting involved with each other—something a Sith could easily exploit. He learned about Bastila and her Battle Meditation, Xristos and his philosophies, Caius and his wound, Elliott and his addictions, Allie and her ingenuity, HK and T3—all of them. The mental trauma that Dustil was going through as the Sith Lord ravaged his mind was almost too much to bear. But bear it he did, as he had no alternative. He just stood still, in his twisted posture, as the Sith Lord conducted the 'interview'.

As the Sith Lord's questions grew less frequent, the 'dialogue' was interrupted.

From behind, a Sith trooper, covered head to foot in their ornate black garb, approached Lord Cyaxares. The Sith Lord did not turn around, his other mask confronting the newcomer. They exchanged a brief discussion in that awful garbled language, and then Cyaxare's voice thrust itself into Dustil's mind again.

It said, "_It seems our war machines have located your companions. We will leave now and eradicate them. But do not fear—you will come and see them slain._"

Without elaborating why, Cyaxares ceased communication. The Sith tooper then strode up to Dustil and stood to his left. He seemed to be awaiting the Sith Lord's approval, and then he opened up a small box and took something out.

Dustil could not see it initially, but his blood ran cold once the object briefly came into view. In the Sith's hand was a morbidly long syringe, a drop of liquid resting on the tip of the needle.

The Sith tooper laughed sardonically and then plunged the needle into Dustil's left arm. It pierced through his Jedi robes and went into his flesh. The Sith slowly pushed down on the back end, injecting the substance into Dustil's blood stream.

Dustil was panicking, unsure what was happening. But all he could do was hold the same pose he had been in for hours on end. But inside of him he could feel the malevolent liquid moving—and he was helpless to do anything about it.

Cyaxares spoke in his mind again, said, "_You will be dead within twelve hours. Such is the beauty of lethal injection. The time of your passing is my choosing_."

The Sith Lord walked away, again not changing directions. The same mask looked at Dustil as he left. He could not discern which direction the Sith was really facing, it was a terrifying enigma. But what frightened him the most was his impending death. He had been poisoned…and he would be dead this day.

Cyaxares barked something at one his underlings. Dustil immediately was hit from behind. Being paralyzed, he could not control his body, but he functioned as a ragdoll. He smacked into the ground, his face slamming onto the dirt. He then felt his legs picked up. He was then dragged across the ground, rocks tearing at his skin, towards a large, dark vehicle.

* * *

Their surge through the street was ill advised. The droids shot too quickly and too accurately. Bullets ripped into the air around the Jedi, and since they could not block the huge projectiles with their lightsabers, they had to try to dodge them. They could only do so for a little amount of time, and each of the Jedi eventually had to duck for cover behind any ruins that would oblige.

Elliott and Allie had done the same, but they were farther back, allowing their group to be stretched thin.

The droids—there were apparently six of them—operated as a team. Once they had enough suppressing fire, two of the droids broke off and tried to flank the pinned down Jedi.

Realizing that their lightsabers were of little use, the Jedi deactivated them and were took up blasters. Range was all-important in this battle.

"Two of them are coming from the right!" Caius yelled, the sounds of gunfire muffling his voice.

"Allie and Elliott are too far behind!" said Bastila, "they'll get killed!"

"We can't move…" Caius said defeatedly, "we'll get killed too."

"Give me cover," she ordered, "I'm going back."

Four of the droids had holed up behind a huge fallen pillar, only revealing themselves when they were firing. And since there were more of them—and they had heavier guns—it was difficult to return fire.

Nevertheless, Caius and Xristos obliged. As soon as there was a break in the shooting, they ventured as far above the rubble as possible and shot as fast and hard as they could. The droids hesitated for a moment, and Bastila used the opportunity to jump to her feet. She wheeled around on her heels and sprung towards the rear. She leapt over a toppled pillar and then sprinted a good five more yards, her robes flailing behind her, before disappearing behind a broken structure. Caius and Xristos ducked down to reload, and instantly a volley of bullets shredded the top of the pillar they were using for cover. Chips of the mysterious texture exploded around them, raining down on their heads.

With his back up against the wall, Caius could see where Bastila had gone. She seemed to be encouraging Elliott and Allie, and then, when there was a temporary alleviation in the shooting, she coaxed them around a much larger ruin.

A bullet went screaming over his head, and Caius instinctively looked to the right of their natural foxhole. The two droids that had tried to flank them were there. The machines did not have a clear shot, but they could easily move in and finish off him and Xristos unless they retreated. Their automatic rifles opened up fire again, muzzle bursts exploding as they shot from the hip. More pieces of architecture rained down upon them.

"Xristos!" Caius exclaimed, "we have to move!"

Just as they were about to chance a blind retreat—which would have, in all likelihood, ended in their deaths—the rightmost droid's head exploded. A blue buzzsaw sliced through its neck, and the mechanical dome burst into flames, sparks flying everywhere. Smoke clouded his vision, but then Caius saw the blue buzzsaw even out. A singular beam blasted through the chassis of the war droid from behind. It then cut upwards, cleaving the machine into two pieces. Its metal plates morphed into molten lava around the edges of the 'wound'. The droid then dropped to its face.

The dust cleared and Caius saw Bastila standing where the droids had been. She was jumping slightly, like a boxer before a fight, waving her right hand in a circle. She seemed to be gesturing to someone.

Right as she had finished her motion, Elliott and Allie came scrambling out of some wreckage and around the corner. They hurried through the alleyway and into the position that Caius and Xristos held. Elliott had two blasters while Allie carried one in her good hand.

Caius was stunned, not expecting the turn of events. He said nothing, but Elliott relayed Bastila's orders. He said, "Give her suppressing fire!"

Caius nodded in the affirmative.

They waited for respite and then Caius yelled, "Now!"

All four of them raised themselves up and began firing on the enemy position. The droids hunkered down. Elliott fired both of his pistols wildly, Caius and Xristos barely aimed, and Allie fired as quickly as she could. Dust and dirt and pieces of ruins went scattering into the air, nearly destroying their visibility completely. Just as they were all about to reload, Bastila stuck.

Several beams of energy went flying from behind an adjacent building. The concentrated light struck three of the droids and instantly froze them. To his right, Caius saw Bastila emerge from an alleyway, only ten yards from their enemies, the anti-droid waves pouring forth from her hand. Her face bore a hardened look of cold determination, unfazed by the battle. Her right arm snapped forward and one of her blue lightsabers flung across the open ground. It sailed into the immobilized droids, severing each of their heads from their bodies in one blow. The fourth droid turned to face her. It scurried off to the side to avoid getting hit by the blue beam, and then fired at her.

Bastila did not move as the bullets whizzed past her, her brown hair ruffling as the shots nearly reached their target. She continued on undeterred. Her hands moved with the calm precision of a conductor as she began her next move. The sole remaining droid soared into the air, its weapon flying from its hand. It writhed in the air, but was unable to release itself. Bastila brought her left hand up, her show reaching its crescendo. Obeying its command, her blue lightsaber—still in the air—redirected its course. The gleaming javelin, instead of returning to her hand, arched upwards. It sang through the air and collided with the mid-section of the enemy droid. There was the sound of pure energy tearing through metal. The droid then crashed into the ground, utterly destroyed, and the deactivated lightsaber found its way into the awaiting hand of the Jedi. She put it on her belt and then turned away from the battle.

Though time seemed to have slowed, all of this happened in mere seconds. Bastila appeared to be moving in slow motion, her attacks were so seamless.

Elliott was the fist to leap over their cover and out into the open. The other three followed suit. As they approached, Caius noticed that Bastila was breathing quickly, but other than that she displayed no real signs of physical exertion.

"Bastila," Caius began in shock, "you killed all six droids."

She looked as though she did not know how to respond. She just gave an awkward shrug that said to everyone, "I guess so."

"Kick ass," said Elliott, "I didn't know you were that good! But I don't know what this means for us, Bastila. I can't date someone who could beat me up. Sorry, babe."

"Well," she began, her voice slightly more cheery, "at least that's one plus."

Elliott actually looked hurt by the comment, Caius observed. He thought to himself, _Bastila—Warrior Jedi Princess_. Soon after, some familiar beeping interrupted his thoughts. There was the noise of grinding gears and sliding dirt, and Caius turned to see T3 wheeling up to the group, whistling to himself blissfully.

"Where were you?" Allie asked the droid.

Another beep. Apparently he had been hiding. The little machine then began cursing at Bastila for taking his guns away.

Caius tried hard not to smile, and he noticed Allie was not keeping a straight face either. Apparently they were the only ones who understood the droid, as the other three seemed unable to understand why they were amused. Caius chuckled—enjoying the shared moment of amusement with Allie. He was about to explain, but he again saw something far away on the horizon. It was not a phantom and it was not war droids.

"Look over there," Caius said, pointing behind Bastila, "what is that?"

The whole party turned where he was indicating. Far off down the ruined road there was a wake of dirt being kicked up by a fast moving vehicle. It was a dark, low-riding speck, but was moving towards them with admirable speed.

The group instinctively got closer together as they saw it approaching. It sped onto the main road and was began a course straight at them. It drew closer and Caius saw that it was a multi-wheeled vehicle, three on each side. It looked like an armored personnel vehicle, but it was moving too fast for that. It was shaped like a symmetrical rock. As it drew closer the lights on its front beamed to life, shining brightly. They all squinted. The thing roared towards them, and by the time it was one hundred yards away they realized it was not stopping.

"Move!" Bastila yelled.

They all dove to the ground at the last second. The dark vehicle swerved and skidded behind them, screeching to a halt. Caius rolled, dirt all over him, and quickly got to his feet. He looked down to see Allie and he helped her up as well. They moved closer to Bastila and the others, who all seemed to be okay.

"What the hell!" Elliott yelled.

The back door of the vehicle jerked open and they were greeted by a fearsome figure. Out strode a disturbingly tall, surely seven feet, dark figure with a comedic black mask on its face, a freakishly gruesome smile upon it. From behind it, half a dozen or more Sith troopers filed out, semi-automatic rifles at their disposal.

Four lightsabers ignited. Allie stood behid Caius, and Elliott shifted behind Xristos. T3 vacated the premises.

The dark figure turned around, and then they were faced with a tragic scowl. Out stretched two long arms, covered with black armor. Two massive vibroswords—as dark as his dense robes—whirled into view.

Caius watched in dismay, but through the blades he discerned a familiar face. Inside the vehicle…he could see someone, unmoving.

"Dustil!" he yelled.

The Sith Lord stormed towards Caius, raised his sword high into the air, and swung.

_A/N: Hmm, two cliffhangers in a row. Sorry about that. I wanted to include the fight in this chapter...but that would have made the chapter incredibly long-and I don't think you all would have enjoyed that :P. So I put it off for the next one._


	17. Chapter 16

A/N: Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter. To celebrate...er...Saturday, and the fact that I have made tremendous progress recently, I'm going to be updating with more frequency. So, here we go!

**Chapter Sixteen**

Caius barely jerked himself out of the way as the huge, black sword sliced through the air. It swung vertically and ran itself into the degraded road where had has stood. The Exile fell to the ground, but had the presence of mind to keep his lightsaber in front of him as the Sith Troopers were firing wildly.

Bullets sprayed at him as though from a hose and he could not block them all. Fortunately, these weapons were of a smaller caliber than the sniper rifles with a slower rate of fire than the Sith used on Korriban, so his lightsaber was effective against them. What they lacked in power, however, they made up for in quantity. The lethal spray was too much for him to keep back. He would have been torn apart had their volley not been cut short

Bastila had the presence of mind to use the Force to topple a large, weak structure during the chaos. The pillar smashed into the ground, crushing one of the Sith and blocking the line of fire of the other five or so. Dirt scattered into the air, impeding their vision even more. Caius could not see exactly what was happening, but apparently Bastila had engaged the Sith Lord. Her two blue blades were mere blotches of light through the clouds of dust, but Caius, momentarily free from the hail of bullets, could tell she was on the defensive. He charged into the fray.

He drew nearer to see Lord Cyaxares in his full glory. His swords slid through the air in huge, sweeping strokes, lacking speed but bearing tremendous power. The Sith fought very oddly. His left hand held his sword naturally, but his right hand gripped the weapon backhand. The combination made it difficult to perceive and anticipate his movements. Bastila tried desperately to parry them, but even making contact with the swinging weapons forced her backwards as the Sith Lord had much more strength than her. A ferocious upper cut with his backhanded sword collided with her blue blades, the force of the impact sending the woman backwards.

Caius tried to catch the Sith Lord unaware and, running at the left side of the foe, thrust his lightsaber at the Sith's chest. Cyaxares, without looking at the Exile, caught his stroke in mid-air with a free sword and then flipped Caius's lightsaber around, exposing the Exile. Xristos hurled a wave of the Force at Cyaxares, and it affected him enough to cause the Sith's follow through to miss the Exile, saving Caius's life. Unfortunately, though the blade missed, the Sith Lord's fist and hilt came into contact with Caius's chest and thaw him backwards. He vaulted through the air, tried to land on his feet, but tripped over a rock and fell onto his back.

His mind was swimming. _Where the hell are Elliott and Allie?_ he thought. He scrambled backwards, trying to get to his feet, but wanting to make sure all his enemies were in front of him. Apparently Cyaxares had not pursued him. He tweaked his neck to his left and saw that Elliott had taken refuge behind some wreckage. He was firing at the Sith Troopers. _The Sith Troopers?_ Caius thought. He had forgotten about them. Another glance to his right showed that they were back in order, at least what was left of them. Another had gone missing in the scuffle, but the dust had cleared and they were firing again. Their torrent of bullets was directed at Bastila, and she could not dodge them and fight Cyaxares at the same time. The Sith quickly gained the upper hand against both Bastila and Xristos. The two Jedi were rapidly retreating, barely even offering strikes at the Sith Lord. Any counter that they mustered, he batted aside like their attacks were mere nuisances. Elliott was firing at the Sith Lord from behind cover, but his shots either missed or glanced off of him harmlessly.

Caius tried to get to his feet. He looked to his right again, and focused on the Sith soldiers. They needed to be dealt with first. They would not escape alive, let alone kill Cyaxares, if they continued to rain fire upon his companions. He tried to keep as much of his body hidden behind the nearby boulder as possible as he planned his attack. He scooted around the side of the rock and then released a wave of lightning. The charged blast caught one of the Sith soldiers in the chest and sent him flying quite far due to the light gravity. They instantly redirected their fire away from Bastila and Xristos and brought it down upon Caius. He was much closer, and their automatic weapons did not need to be as accurate to hit him.

He let go of his wave of lightning and tried to bring his lightsaber back up, quickly on the defensive. Dozens of bullets shrieked past him. He could not dodge them all. One shot tore into his left shoulder. The Exile cried out in agony and fell to the ground, conveniently behind the rock. He gripped his shoulder, and brought his lightsaber up to his chest.

He looked to where Bastila and Xristos had been fighting Cyaxares. Bastila was almost completely subdued.

_Oh no_, Caius thought.

Cyaxares spun his swords around horizontally, slicing his swords through the air at the woman. She fell to the ground, perhaps unintentionally, and the attempt skimmed over the top of her head. Her lightsabers were deactivated and she scrambled backwards, trying to get on her feet. The Sith Lord pursued her, but she, to Caius's shock, turned around and bolted.

"Run!" he heard her yell above the din, "Split up!"

Cyaxares was slow. He tried to throw one of his swords after Bastila. The sailing weapon would probably have impaled her if Xristos hadn't appeared out of nowhere and struck it down with his green lightsaber. No sooner had he done so than did he make for the hills as well. Caius saw Elliott turn and run the opposite direction, and he saw Allie—alive, fortunately—emerge from behind some rubble and take off another way.

He instantly got to his feet, the pain in his shoulder searing violently, and turned. He hobbled as fast as he could through the closest alleyway, trying to escape.

He had no idea what plan they had after this. What was he thinking? There was no plan—the script read 'try to survive'. He ran as fast as he could and disappeared into the skeletal city.

* * *

Cyaxares stood motionless in the middle of the road, his Sith soldiers—the four that remained—filing in behind him. He let his two swords fall to his side as he relaxed. He did not face them, allowed his devilish, smiling mask to function as his eyes. He growled fiercely, "_Find them—fail…and die_."

With that the Sith broke off individually to pursue their prey.

Cyaxares went after Bastila himself.

* * *

Allie scrambled up on top of a small structure, hoping that if she got to the roofs she would be able to more easily avoid being killed. There were ramps on some of the buildings that allowed her to ascend to the top of one of the ruins. The roof was smooth and solid, composed of the black, metallic substance of which all the structures seemed to be made.

Once atop the building, she realized she had hit a dead end—there was no way to get anywhere else from the structure. The other things were too high. As she was about to turn and go back down, she heard a blood-curdling shriek. Startled, she saw one of the hooded Sith soldiers come into her line of sight. It wielded a longsword and was springing up the ramp after her.

She instinctively backed up, but had very little room to move. She quickly fired two shots at the Sith with her blaster, but—in her haste—missed both of them. The creature charged wildly towards her and swung horizontally. She jumped backwards and the Sith's blow caught her blaster by the barrel and smacked it out of her hand.

The Sith almost fell down it swung so violently, the animalistic creature screamed the whole time. Weaponless, Allie tried to make a break for the ramp. The Sith gathered itself and let fly another strike, but she moved too quickly and its attempt went wide. Allie was about two feet from the ramp when she was hit hard from behind. The Sith, in its wild fury, had abandoned its sword and tackled her from behind.

She crashed into the ground, landing awkwardly and hurting her sling-bound arm again. She rolled over and tried to move, but the Sith fell on top of her. It screeched its menacing howl as it tried to get a hold of her. She squirmed as hard as she could, but the thing would not let up. She tried to kick it in the groin, but could not muster any strength behind her attempts as it pinned her down. She writhed again, but the Sith would not let go of her. It grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her body towards the edge of the building. Though the structure was not too high, a fall would likely be fatal. The Sith seemed to be trying to shove her off of the side, but she tried hard to resist it. With only one good arm, though, she did not stand much of a chance.

Just as the Sith was about to finally toss her off the edge, it suddenly shrieked in agony. Its hands let go of her and it grasped at its side, howling in pain. It flew to her left and fell onto its back, twitching spasmodically—though very much alive. Allie, confused but grateful for the relief, turned her head and saw T3 beside her, his shocking iron extended from his body. He had blasted the Sith in the side with some kind of seizure-inducing droid utensil.

Allie, keeping her wits about her, seized the hydrospanner she had on her belt. She quickly fitted a large bit onto it. The mechanic got to her knees and just as the Sith seemed to be regaining control over its body, she struck.

She stabbed the tool into the Sith's chest, bypassing the cloth, and then activated the bit driver. The bit thrust into the Sith with tremendous strength, tearing through its flesh. It screeched and tried to grab at Allie's arm, but she twisted the tool into her attacker further. It wailed, but she did not allow it time to try any last ditch attack. Just as it had attempted to do to her, she used her good hand to shove the Sith off the side of the building. It slid off easily, its limbs flailing as it went down, the drill bit still imbedded into its chest. It hit the side of another ruin, bounced and then impacted into the ground with a thud. There it twitched and died.

"And I've only got one arm!" she yelled down at the carcass.

T3 rolled up next to her and said, "Dwooo…"

Allie was hyperventilating. She knelt down next the droid, trying to regain her composure.

"Thanks, T3," she said, patting it on the head, "I always knew I could count on you."

The droid beeped in agreement.

* * *

Caius stumbled through the labyrinthine back alleyways of the old city. His shoulder was bleeding profusely now, and his pace had fallen to a mindless stroll. Each step took too much energy out of him.

The loss of blood was too much. He winced and stopped, heaving giant gasps for air. He realized he would have to use the Force to try to heal himself. He steeled his resolve and began to focus, believing that he put enough distance between his enemies and himself. Regardless, he would have to do this no matter how close they were.

He closed his eyes and, calling on the Force, located the bullet in his shoulder. It was a good quarter inch into his flesh. He was lucky that it was only that shallow—the shot had probably been a ricochet, but he would have to get it out. He would not be able to use his hands so he used Force push. Trying to expel the bullet from the wound, he used his powers to push against it. Pain shot through his arm. He grunted audibly, but still pushed, clutching his left bicep with his good hand.

He winced tightly, but soon he was rewarded. The bullet ejected from his arm and fell harmlessly to the ground.

It did not alleviate the pain, however, and the Exile fell to his knees shaking, still clutching his arm.

It was fortunate that he did, as one of the Sith pursuers had come up behind him as he operated on himself. Falling to his knees saved him the misfortune of having his head cleaved by a longsword.

The Sith screamed in anger. Caius instinctively twisted to the ground, but opened his eyes to find the Sith standing above him, one leg on each side of him. It was about to swing downwards and cut him in half long ways. The Exile jerked to the side and the downward strike narrowly missed him. As the Sith was about to pull the sword back up, Caius reached up—causing his bad shoulder to scream in protest—and grabbed the sword just above the hilt. The blade cut into his gloved hands, piercing his skin, but he held on despite the already intense pain.

The Exile then used his foot to kick the Sith in the stomach and vault the creature over his head. The Sith smacked into a wall upside down, and fell on its head. Its body limply followed suit, as apparently it fractured its neck. In agony, Caius staggered to his feet. He slowly pulled out his lightsaber and stuck the blue beam into the back of the unmoving Sith. He again fell to his knees as he killed the creature, struggling to breathe and resist the pain.

He could not deny that he was lucky to be alive. It was only by chance that he had 'ducked' the Sith's blow. He should be dead.

He remained on the ground for a while longer, gathering his senses. He hoped no more Sith would attack him from behind, as this time he surely would not survive.

Slowly, he built up enough energy to stand again, gritting his teeth. His shoulder was throbbing and his hands were lacerated—he was certainly in no condition to fight. He stumbled around the back of an exceptionally large ruin and decided it would be best to summit it. He would be able to see where he and everyone else was, and perhaps figure out what to do. There was an old staircase that had been carved into the mysterious black stone, though now it was smoothed over and resembled more of an incline than anything else. He trudged slowly onto and began his ascent.

Once he reached the top of the building, he realized that there were very few structures that were taller—he could see very far. Still the planet was bathed in the eternal gray haze of dusk, but there was enough light to see a long way. However, he could not make out where anyone was.

He scanned the horizon vainly, hoping to see something, anything, but could not discern any unusual images. He stood and watched for any movement for several minutes, but he didn't see anything. At least, not for a while. When something finally did catch his eye, it was not…natural.

There, in the distance, he saw a green energy beam suspended in the air. He squinted to look at it. Surely it was a lightsaber. _It has to be Xristos_, Caius thought, _but why the hell isn't it moving?_ The saber just hung still, floating in the air at a seventy-degree incline. Caius stared at it for almost sixty seconds, and still nothing happened. It just held its position.

_This doesn't make any sense_, Caius thought.

He then realized that his arm and hands did not cause any pain. He was utterly confused.

And then he noticed his surroundings. There was no noise. The wind had stopped blowing; he could hear nothing. There was a profound deadness to the air, even bleaker than the planet was generally. He sensed nothingness.

Uncertain, he turned around. He was then frozen with fear.

Before him, in all of its might and glory, was the phantom.

Caius was paralyzed.

"_Do not fear_," it said in his mind.

The great specter towered above him. It floated a foot or so off of the ground, its six, long legs not touching the surface of the building. The ghost was inherently insect-like. It clearly bore an exoskeleton—its legs hard and rigid, and its joints were visibly external. Upon the six legs was a broad, round body with two shorter, arm-like appendages the sloped off of the side of it. Its head was at the tip of a long neck that hung down below its shoulders, looking at the Exile. The face was solemn and stoic, large, bulbous eyes but no nose or mouth visible. Its whole body was rendered in a shiny, translucent light—like it was a spiritual hologram.

"What…what are you?" Caius asked, still frozen.

"_I am of the Krothyr, and this was our city,_" it answered. Its voice was not a physical thing, but a mental one. It was in his mind. "_Me—I was Overseer of this place. We are atop my palace_."

"Palace?" Caius stuttered at length, "were you the ruler of this planet?"

"_You do not understand. No one governed Samarkand, it was merely watched over._"

Caius had a million things to ask, but could not state them all at once. "What…what is happening?" he said vaguely.

"_You have become unstuck in time_," answered the apparition.

"You mean…time has stopped? How?"

"_A foolish race is yours—already I sense that you think this the most important question._"

Caius did not understand, he just said, "What?"

"_In all your observations of universe, you ask 'how' and get what? Another question? But did you all ever cease and wonder the timeless inquiry? Did you ever ask '__**why**__'?_" The alien was somehow displeased, but it answered, said, "_This is a vision—surely you understand what it entails?_"

Caius then realized it was a Force vision. He had heard of these things before, but he had to admit that it was not as he would have predicted it. He always expected that he would somehow be transported into some happy, gray, foggy world in a vision. He was surprised to see that he had merely been put into suspended animation in the middle of a battle.

"Okay…" Caius surrendered, "why am I having this vision?"

"_So that we may be permitted to speak_."

"Why do we need to speak?" Caius asked, figuring the creature would be pleased he was framing the question how it would like it.

"_You do not already know? The lives of your companions hang in the balance_."

Caius already knew this, and this aggravating ghost was not really helping matters. By stopping time, it had apparently just delayed the inevitable.

"_You must focus_," said the ghost, "_and cease your fretting. Nothing can or will happen until we are finished speaking._"

"What do you have to say?" the Exile asked bluntly.

"_Nothing said will matter unless you are willing to listen_," it said sharply.

"I am listening," Caius responded.

"_Behold,_" said the apparition in a stunningly operatic voice, "_you stand upon the Palace of Samarkand. You have walked in its Seven Gardens. You have an audience with the Overseer. Now the histories will be made known to you. But first, you must be made to __**see**__._"

Suddenly, Caius found himself in a far off place. It was the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Grandmaster Nantaris was addressing a congregation of Jedi, no doubt about the future of the Order. He stood with a solemn look on his face, very different from the normally comic and lighthearted aura the man emitted. It was a frozen image.

Then he saw Carth and his pristine uniform sitting behind a desk. A young lieutenant was approaching him, but Onasi only regarded him grimly.

An unnatural shift then found Caius standing in a hospital waiting room on Citadel Station in Telos. He saw Atton with his arm around a frail young woman, and a bald doctor standing next to them. The girl was holding onto two rails, trying to use them to walk their length. She had very red hair and an unhappy look on her young face. _Mira!_ Caius suddenly thought to himself. _She's alive!_ He was overcome. The current situation was so dire, and yet…he was happy.

"_Do you now see our power?_" asked the phantom. Caius was then back atop the large ruin in 'Samarkand'. "_I can use your mind to show you what can and should happen_."

"What about my friends here?" he asked breathlessly, "Are they okay?"

Now he was with Allie. She was sitting on top of a ruin, similar to his but not nearly as tall, with T3 next to her. Her face was bruised, but otherwise she was all right.

Next was Elliott. The pilot was in the process of firing both of his blasters at a Sith soldier who seemed to be charging at him. Two bolts were striking the Sith in the chest, the freeze frame rendering a very surreal image.

He saw Dustil lying immobile inside the Sith vehicle that had tried to run them over. His face, though frozen, showed a great deal of distress. His eyes were traumatized. HK was slumped over next to him, apparently deactivated. Or perhaps destroyed.

Another transition, and now he saw Xristos. His green lightsaber was still raised up in the air, and he was about to let it fall down upon an incapacitated Sith soldier.

And then Caius found himself before the last image. This one was very romantic in the sense of grandeur—and tragic. He saw Bastila by herself—several hundred yards away from their first contact with Cyaxares. She was in the middle of the road, standing tall, her two blue lightsabers hanging down from her hands and nearly touching the ground. She was awaiting Lord Cyaxares, who Caius could see storming towards her. But she just stood there, unmoving, resolved to meet whatever fate had for her.

And finally Caius was on top of the 'palace' again.

"They need help," he said forlornly.

"_They will get it_," said the phantom, "_and now you must listen. Will you hear the histories?_"

Caius nodded his head.

"_Then you shall. Behold, I am Overseer of Samarkand. I was called Orthys—atop the hierarchy of Krothyr, but equal with my fellows. This was our planet._"

Caius wanted to ask how anything could have lived here, but he did not want to interrupt the ghost.

"_Samarkand was not then as it is now. Once it was lush and bountiful—once it lived. We, the Krothyr, were an advanced race. We took to the stars and skies; we found other worlds. We could not eclipse the light, and we did not travel far, but we were the overseers of this region of the galaxy._

"_But then __**they**__ arrived. Foreign invaders. They were on the run, we believed they had been chased into this realm of the galaxy by others._" The apparition then paused, an unusual act, "_We were the main threat to their dominance,_" it continued, "_to subdue this space—they had to subdue us. We were overmatched, but we resisted with all of our might. The Krothyr were not the mightiest race, but we fought valiantly. They tried to cleanse this planet of life, but they could not land upon it. We fought them in the jungles, and we repelled them where they landed. But ultimately, they controlled the skies._"

It paused again before it continued the drama. It said ominously, "_Then began 'The Siege'_."

"_They could not defeat us,_" it said, "_so they surrounded our planet and hoped to starve us. We would have survived. But he—their leader—he wielded unknown power._"

"Was it Severus?" Caius asked.

"_No, it was another. It has been so long, his name has been lost. But he was connected with Unity. He manipulated it to his will. He feasted on its power, and then it infiltrated him and corrupted him. And he used it._"

"What is 'Unity'?"

The ghost ceased its tale and answered, said, "_It is an energy field that binds all living things. It helped us, and it gave us union with the earth and with space and with each other. We lived in harmony with it and it with us._"

"So…it is the Force?"

The alien mused, answered, "_Two names for one entity._"

"_But this outsider—he used it. Instead of letting it aid him, he took control of it. We could sense that it was tricking him, but it allowed him to perform acts of terrible power. He—through its abuse—murdered Samarkand_."

"How is that…possible?"

"_Through its power he halted the movement of our planet. Samarkand froze in time. There was no more day and no more night. We were undone. Half of our planet burned and the other half froze in darkness. Our jungles ceased. Our resources dwindled. Only those of us in the meridian survived—and then they invaded. Scorching, pillaging, they burned our planet through Unity. The few of us who had survived were as nothing. Mountains of skulls piled in the streets. Skeletons were strewn across the cities. Our palaces and buildings were burned through their magic. They turned our magnificent city into bones—into a skeleton, as we are now skeletons. They murdered our planet and our people_."

Caius was shocked. Had the Sith this much power? If so, how did they get run out of the Republic to begin with? It was frightening indeed. But he asked, "Why is it that you remain here?"

"_Remain?_" it asked. "_Do we remain? We have nowhere else. Samarkand was our home. When the invaders murdered it, they took Unity from it. The planet is fractured, not one. It has been removed from Unity—we were divided and now we linger. We cannot be made whole_."

"Your whole race is like this?"

"_Indeed we are._"

"I saw a few of you on the way here…is there anything that can be done?"

"_It is through the power of the abominable invaders that we are in this state. They must be destroyed—only then will the dark power that corrupts our world be removed. And then we can be in union again_."

Caius was unsure what it was asking, said, "What is it you want me to do?"

"_Defeat these villains. It was already your destiny._"

"If it was already my destiny," Caius asked hypothetically, "then why have you confronted me?"

"_Because_," answered the specter condescendingly, "_you cannot do it alone. You will need our help_."

Caius used the opportunity, asked, "Can you help us defeat this Sith Lord? We cannot escape this planet."

"_Verily, I promise unto you—we will provide aid. Behold!_"

And suddenly Caius was vaulted back into time—the universe flowing through and around him once again. His shoulder and hands had mysteriously healed and he felt no pain. He was transported to an entirely different place, inexplicably removed from the tall ruin he had summated. He was in the middle of the road, and he witnessed a terrible sight.

Immediately in front of him was the fearsome figure of Lord Cyaxares. The malevolent enemy was leaning forward as he ran, his swords pointed outward, and charging towards him. But he was not alone. Bastila was right next to him, both of her lightsabers in hand; ready to meet their foe. Xristos burst into view at her right, the three of them awaiting their enemy. Lord Cyaxares hesitated for a brief moment, completely befuddled as to how two Jedi had manifested out of thin air right in front of him.

Bastila, Caius, and Xristos, however, did not question it. They instantly raised their weapons and charged.

Allie and Elliott appeared simultaneously on opposite sides of the street, situated in precisely the perfect vantage points to fire down upon the lone—and now heavily outnumbered—Sith Lord. The Krothyr had orchestrated them all to have the perfect positions, and it had been done so seamlessly the others did not seem to realize what had happened.

The Jedi met their assailant. Caius struck quickly, a jab at the Sith's side, but the behemoth swordsman batted it away violently. He kicked the Exile's leg out and the ex-Jedi fell to the ground as one huge black sword tore into the road he had occupied. Cyaxares used his other blade to deflect both of Bastila's lightsabers out of the way, and at the same time ducked under a wide swipe from Xristos's green lightsaber.

Though the Sith was down three to one on the ground, five to one including the snipers, he did not relent. Blaster bolts rained down upon him from above, but the ones that managed to strike him did not cause anything more than aesthetic damage to his armor. Despite his slow speed, the Sith fought smoothly and fluidly. He dodged and ducked and twisted majestically, not allowing one opening of which the Jedi could take advantage. Not only was he repelling their attacks—he was forcing them backwards. Somehow, the outgunned Sith was beating them into reverse.

The duel continued, four energy beams colliding with the jet-black vibroswords of the Sith Lord. The shafts of light spun and whirled through the air, but did not make contact with anything but metal.

Cyaxares then called on the Force. Without so much as a hand gesture, he blasted Bastila backwards. She flipped through the air and landed on her back, rolled once, and then fell into a heap fifteen yards away. Elliott, in desperation, threw a grenade at the Sith Lord, but he did not time it correctly. It struck the Sith Lord in the head, but bounced harmlessly away. Unfortunately, it landed right near Xristos, and the aged Jedi had to leap out of the way. A spout of dirt and rock exploded into a geyser, thrusting high into the air and distorting their vision. Caius could not see where the old man had gone, and Bastila was somewhere behind him.

Caius found himself face to face with the Sith Lord, alone.

_This could not be the help I was promised_, Caius thought.

But nothing happened.

_Is that it?_ he called out in vain.

The Sith Lord swung at him and Caius barely blocked it. He threw his lightsaber upwards, trying to shift the Sith's positioning. He countered and tried to hit the Sith in the stomach, but Cyaxares had anticipated the move. He jerked to his left. The thrust missed, and Caius found his arm entangled. Cyaxares dropped one of his swords in the counterattack, but managed to grasp the Exile's right arm and wrenched it into an unnatural position. Caius cried out in agony, his lightsaber flying from his hand. The Sith Lord then heaved him up by the bicep and threw him across the road. Caius smashed into a boulder and ricocheted onto the dirt, landing in a pile.

His mind was foggy. _Where is Bastila?_ he thought. A glance to his right showed that she was alive, but could not help him. She was on her hands and knees, struggling to breathe. Xristos was farther away and he could not see him. He shifted his view and looked in front of him. The dark figure was almost on top of him. Cyaxares, only a few feet away, came in close for the kill. He raised his right arm above his head to strike—to end Caius's life.

Caius was unable to move, and he did not even have his lightsaber to defend himself. He lay there like an animal in front of an oncoming vehicle, just awaiting the blow.

But it never came.

A strange stream of translucent energy, sparkling in the dim light, pierced Cyaxares's chest. It flowed into him like a river, thrusting into his upper body and then diffusing throughout him. It spilled over him in a pure, unbridled form of energy.

The Sith Lord immediately dropped his weapons to the ground and put his hands on his head. His knees buckled and he screamed a demonic wail as his body was invaded. He wavered, sloping down to the ground. Another of the clear projectiles impaled him. The Sith's cries grew louder, but deeper. They rose until he stood up fully again, twisting.

Another and another spirit slammed into him. His feet lifted off of the ground and he was suspended two feet in the air. His cries grew more frightening as he was under siege by the translucent beings. Caius then recognized what they were. They were the Krothyr, and they were exacting revenge on the invaders that killed their planet.

Cyaxares's sinister mask, the one with the sardonic smile on it, suddenly jerked to the right, a loud pop emanating. The Sith screamed, and again his mask jerked. Now Caius could see the tragic face. The process repeated. The Sith's mask—and inside, his head—wrenched sideways over and over again until it was spinning like a rotor on a propeller. The Sith, still alive, was raised higher into the air. The rotating of his head warped his voice. His arms flailed as he tried to regain control over his body, but it was to no avail. Beams of light shot out of the Sith's body, as rays that pierce clouds, and then—suddenly—he froze.

Still suspended in air, the beams of light shot out of the eyes on his mask. Caius squinted, unsure what he was witnessing, and then was blinded.

Cyaxares body was consumed in light, and then what looked like an explosive force enveloped him. Dust and dirt and rocks rose up to meet him. He was still shrieking, but there was no relenting. And as suddenly as the assault began, Cyaxares's voice stopped. It was replaced by the sound of an explosion. Caius covered his eyes as the Sith Lord seemed to burst out of existence, the rocks and dirt flying every which direction, sending shock waves out from the epicenter that had been Cyaxares. The air he had occupied contained nothing—it was merely empty. The Exile was showered with dirt, the remains of the killing. He covered his head to keep anything from striking him until the calamity subsided.

Caius slowly uncovered his head and looked around. Out of the sky, a singular object dropped to the ground. It bounced twice and then landed softly in front of him, between the two unused vibroswords. He looked at it closely, and then realized that it was one of the masks of Cyaxares. Its frightening smile gaped up at him, but through it he could only see the dirt of the road. Steam and smoke rose from the teardrop eye sockets, the mask lying still and harmless.

* * *

The Exile struggled to his feet. He trudged up slowly, feeling a tremendous pain in his back and right arm. He hoped that Cyaxares had not broken it. He eventually turned to his right, and saw both Bastila and Xristos were on their feet. Bastila had her hands on her knees, and Xristos put his hand on her back. Elliott and Allie then joined them, running down from their points atop the ruins—T3 behind them.

"What the _hell_ happened?" Elliott cried out.

"The Krothyr…" Caius said quietly.

"The what?" Elliott demanded.

Bastila interrupted them, exclaimed, "We have to get to Dustil!"

They took off running towards the vehicle that had brought the Sith Lord to them. Caius nearly tripped over his lightsaber in the process, but was able to scoop it up in the middle of his sprint. He eyed his companions as they hurried, and saw that all of them had wounds. Xristos had a deep gash that ran vertically in front of his right ear, bleeding on his neck and shoulder. Bastila's nose had turned into a faucet, letting a frightening amount of blood spill out of it. Both Elliott and Allie had assorted cuts and wounds. Caius only figured that he probably looked like hell too.

The made it to the vehicle in mere moments, running faster than any of them would have thought possible in their current state of fatigue.

Once they arrived, they found Dustil sprawled out on the small loading ramp. He was half hanging off of it, his face buried into the dirt, but he had moved there of his own volition. The paralysis had died with Cyaxares.

"Dustil!" Bastila called out, unsure what to say after his name.

She and Xristos were immediately next to him. They tried their best to gently turn his body over, and once they did so they were appalled by his condition.

His face was pale and his flesh was shifting into a disturbing green color. Each breath he took was labored and obscured by a wheezing croak, blocking air from getting to his lungs. His eyes were sunken and surrounded by darkened circles. Dried blood was underneath his nose and his face bore an absurd amount of cuts and bruises.

"Dustil, can you hear me?" Xristos asked him.

He merely croaked, choking on his words. He tried again and muttered the first letter, "P—"

"What is it, Dustil?" Bastila asked louder.

"Poi—," he coughed again, "poison…" Once he had finally expelled the word he jerked sideways and threw up on the ground.

Bastila's hands were shaking, she just sat there and said nervously, "Oh no—he's poisoned! Xristos! What do we do? What _can _we do?"

"I…don't know!" he said, defeated.

Elliott just looked on, more horrified than Caius had ever seen the man, and Allie was chewing on her nails.

Dustil seemed to be experiencing a seizure, as his body was then out of his control and his muscles twitched and jolted in a definitely pained manner. Caius did not know what to do. He was several feet away from them and felt completely helpless. He had no experience in medicine—he only knew very limited forms of Force heal, but that was it. He felt completely useless as the other two Jedi tried to save the young Onasi.

"T3!" Bastila called, "do you have a medpac?"

The droid beeped in agreement and wheeled over to her. She took out on and injected it into Dustil's leg. They tended to him for another moment before she exclaimed, "It's not working! He's just getting worse!"

Caius chanced a quick look at the young Jedi. Now his eyes were turning red, and his face was morphing even further into the ghoulish green shade.

"We have to get him back to the _Hawk_," said Xristos. "It's our only hope. We don't have the supplies here to keep him alive. We have to go fast."

"Wait," Bastila said, "let's try something together first—it may buy us some time." She gestured to Caius, said, "Get over here. Come on, we've all got to funnel the Force into him. It may give us the extra time we need to get him back." Caius obliged and came over to Dustil, kneeling over his broken body.

Before they could begin, however, Caius felt the disembodied voice within his skull again. It said, "_The boy will live_."

"Can you help us?" Caius asked.

"_I shall. The rest is up to you._"

"Okay," said Bastila, "together!"

All of the Jedi put their hands on Dustil, who was completely loosing his grip on reality. The channeled all of the healing power they possibly could muster and poured it into him. They maintained this state for almost a minute. In that time, Caius, though he had his eyes closed, knew that the Krothyr had done something to Dustil. He could feel its presence within the boy. The others mistook it for the Force acting on him.

After they ceased their efforts, Xristos gripped Dustil's wrist and then said, "I think…I think it worked!"

"Quick," said Bastila, "we've got to get back to the _Hawk_!"

"How?" questioned Elliott.

Xristos ran over to the front of the vehicle and yanked open a small hatch. He peered inside, then said, "You drive."

Elliott looked stunned, but then resigned to obeying. He cautioned, "This may be a bumpy ride."

Bastila and Caius then picked up Dustil and carried him gently into the passenger area in the back. The laid him out on three of the seats. The Exile noted quickly that HK was still inside the vehicle. Bastila stayed with him and Caius went to help Allie through the door. Xristos followed with T3 and then the hatch flew shut. They heard the engine explode to life and suddenly the vehicle rocketed forward like a ship jumping to hyperspace. Caius fell out of his chair, and Bastila did her best to keep Dustil from experiencing any unnecessary discomfort. As their vehicle roared through the desolate streets of Samarkand, Caius thought to himself.

He said in his mind, "Thank you, Orthys."

"_Keep the covenant we forged_," answered the specter. The promise—now the Exile had more incentive to bring down Severus, as if he did not already. But to do that, he would still have to find Revan first.

And Caius never again shared thoughts with the Overseer of Samarkand.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Elliott could hardly control the Sith vehicle as they rocketed towards the _Ebon Hawk_. It skidded over the roads, slipping and sliding as he tried to maintain a semblance of order. Everyone in the back was thrown to and fro inside the small passenger space in the back. Bastila tried to desperately to keep Dustil from getting hurt more than he already was, but her job was not easy. Time dragged on, but finally Elliott got them to the _Hawk_.

Bastila and Xristos immediately picked Dustil up and got him inside the freighter to the medical room. They rushed like madmen, leaving everyone else behind and effectively locking the rest of the crew in the main hold. Elliott, Allie, and Caius all found themselves waiting behind as the two healers worked to save Dustil's life.

"I hope he'll be okay," Allie said quietly as she strode back and forth across the room.

Caius looked over at Elliott who was reclining in one of the seats, his head falling backwards. The Exile said, "I think he'll be fine."

"How do you know?" Allie asked.

"It's hard to explain…" he responded ambiguously.

Allie frowned and stopped walking.

Elliott said, "You mean like it was hard to explain how that Sith guy exploded?"

"Yes," Caius said, but did not elaborate.

"How did that happen?" Elliott asked.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," came Caius's answer.

Elliott sat upwards and then looked Caius in the eyes. He said, "You know? Then why not tell us?"

Caius then launched into a lengthy explanation of the Krothyr and the ghosts he had seen. How they had killed Cyaxares and how they had promised to heal Dustil. He didn't think Elliott believed him—even Allie was somewhat skeptical.

Caius just shrugged after he was done. "It's the truth," he said.

"Yeah, I'll bet," answered Elliott, "but I guess it's a better explanation than anyone else can come up with."

Allie hadn't commented at all during Caius's talk. She said simply at the end, "I can't stay in here anymore. I'm going to go try and repair HK; T3, do you want to come?"

The droid beeped angrily, signifying a 'no'.

"T3," Allie then said forcefully, "come help me repair HK."

The temperamental trashcan then resigned and followed her out of the ship slowly.

* * *

Several hours later, both patients had been saved. Dustil was awake and talking, asking questions and responding well. He was still very weak, however.

HK was alive again, and he had a few choice words for the Sith who had deactivated him. Caius had never heard HK speak this way, generally he was unconcerned with sentient life—but this was extreme. He was livid.

Before Dustil had fully come out of his paralysis, Allie had repaired HK and brought him on the ship. Caius then asked him questions about what happened.

"Statement: My behavior core is melting with white hot fury even as we speak of the damnable Sith enemies. Master, I desire to eliminate all of them. Give me the word, I will wipe this race from the galaxy."

"Not yet, HK," Caius said hesitantly, "we'll get there."

The droid then explained the circumstances of his deactivation. Apparently he had destroyed three Sith before they resorted to trapping him and using an ion scrambler. The droid despised those weapons.

In the middle of the droid's tirade, Xristos walked outside and told Caius that Dustil was awake.

"He wants to talk to you," the old man informed the Exile.

"Me? Why?" asked Caius.

"I don't know," Xristos admitted, "but he seems to think it's important. He wants all of us there."

Caius turned to look at Allie and Elliott and then back at Xristos, he asked, "Should we bring them in too?"

Xristos shook his head, "No—we don't want to overwhelm him. He's still weak from the poison."

"All right," said the Exile. He turned to the other two and said, "We'll be back soon."

Meanwhile, Xristos led Caius into the med room. He found Dustil laid out on a small cot in one of the room's corners with Bastila leaning over him. His skin was still very pale, and his face was thrashed with cuts and bruises, but he was very much alive. He did not move too much when he talked, but it was clear he was recovering.

"Hey Caius," he said softly. His voice was barely more than a whisper; apparently he could not muster more strength behind the words. "Thanks...for rescuing me."

"No problem," said the Exile as he walked in.

Dustil tried to shift and raise his head, but Bastila stopped him, said, "Dustil—don't move too much. You're still going to feel the effects of that poison."

"What did that Sith Lord do to you?" Caius asked.

"Some of his soldiers found me and HK when we were scouting. They fired at us and I had to try to hide to keep from getting hit. We were split up and then the Sith Lord found me—he froze me through the Force somehow." The recounting of the tale seemed to weigh on Dustil, which was certainly understandable. He continued, "He set me up outside their wrecked ship and then interrogated me. He raided my mind and found out everything he wanted to know. All of it—about Revan and everything."

Bastila consoled him, said, "It doesn't matter now—the Sith is dead. What he knew is of no importance."

Dustil continued on, however, said, "He showed me their plans for the future. He showed me how they wanted to destroy the Republic. It was all in images…it was terrifying."

"Why do they want to destroy the Republic?" Caius asked aloud.

"Does it matter?" answered Bastila. "They clearly do—we have to prevent it."

"But I'm just curious—why do the Sith always want to destroy the Republic? There has to be some reason, I find it hard to believe they just desire it because it's in the handbook."

Xristos ignored the sarcasm and answered, "It's because of the Jedi. They are antithetical to them, and, to the Sith, the Order is synonymous with the Republic. The death of one would herald the death of the other."

"This is not the time to discuss it," Bastila interrupted the old Jedi. "We need to figure out a way to get off of this planet." She turned to Dustil, asked, "Did you see anything when you were near the Sith ship? Was it in good enough condition to salvage parts?"

"I don't know," Dustil answered. "But it was more or less intact. It was cracked into two or three pieces, but it was in surprisingly good condition—at least, from what I could tell."

Bastila sighed, said, "Then I guess we have to go to the Sith ship and look. It's our only option, really. We can't use the comm to radio for help—it's past dead now."

"What if we can't fix the ship?" Dustil asked warily.

"I'd rather not think about that," answered Bastila.

"Who should go?" Caius asked.

"Well," she began, "Xristos and I need to stay here to keep our eyes on Dustil. We're not going to risk any sort of relapse—we'll need as many healers here as possible if it happens." Dustil did not look very comforted by the comments, as his tired eyes glazed over when she spoke of the possibility of relapse. Bastila continued, "So you should go, Caius. Take Allie and the droids for their technical skill. And you may as well take Elliott too."

"All right," said Caius. "I guess that's our only option. What are we looking for?"

"I don't know," answered the woman, "but Allie does. Ask her."

Caius bade them goodbye. They wished him luck, and Dustil thanked him again. He was not sure why the young Jedi insisted on thanking him, but he accepted it nonetheless. He turned and then left the medical room.

* * *

Caius decided it would be better to rest first. They had been through a lot that 'day', and they needed time to recuperate. The nonexistent night on the planet made it difficult, but the Exile forced himself to sleep a few hours before getting ready to leave for the enemy ship. He strode out into the main hold of _Hawk_ and, finding Elliott there, began detailing his plans. But they didn't get very far.

"I am _not_ going out there again!" Elliott insisted stalwartly.

"We need someone to drive that Sith vehicle," Caius said, trying to pressure him into coming, "and you already know how."

"You figure it out," said the pilot, "I'm not leaving this ship again. It's not that hard—a Jedi like you could probably drive it with your eyes tied behind your back."

"…what?"

"I'm not going."

Caius sighed. It did not look like the conversation was going to go anywhere. He tried to think of reasons to make Elliott go, but he could not come up with anything particularly convincing. He stood in silence in the main hold, staring at the reclining pilot, trying to glare him into going. But he would not.

At length, Caius admitted defeat and left the room. He turned left and descended the _Hawk_'s loading ramp. Allie was standing outside in front of the Sith contraption, waiting patiently. HK was keeping guard next to her and T3 was driving around in circles.

"He's not coming?" Allie asked.

"No," said Caius flatly. "It's just us and the machines."

"Satisfaction: Very good, master. Of all the meatbags, I find the pilot the most objectionable."

"Let's get going right away, then" said the Exile.

Caius had wanted Elliott to come with them—badly. Not because he really enjoyed the man's company—although he found new respect and tolerance for him since the revelation about his past—but because he did not want to have to be alone with Allie. What he feared most was actually confronting their situation, which was bound to happen eventually. He had hoped he could just ignore the whole thing, but that was not entirely possible. No, he would have to talk to her about this now and end the 'relationship' before it began—and before it began to complicate their objectives.

There was only enough room for the two of them in the front of the transport. HK and T3 were loaded into the back and Caius and Allie occupied the cockpit. Caius took the driver's seat and Allie sat adjacent to him. The controls were odd, and the Exile was not sure how well he would be able to steer the thing. It did not have a wheel, but a series of levers that one would have to pull up and down in order to slant the front wheels left or right. Its speed could be increased with a sort of knobbed wheel that he had to run his left hand over. All in all, it made driving unnecessarily difficult.

As Allie strapped herself in, Caius activated the vehicle and they rocked backwards, the engine stalling shortly after. It shuddered and died, the transport falling lifeless.

"Uh…oops," said Caius.

"Oops? What oops?" Allie questioned.

"This thing…I don't know. It goes the opposite of how it should—I'm amazed Elliott was able to drive it."

"Well," she responded, "that is his job."

"I guess," said Caius. He then rolled him palm over the stylus and tried to accelerate the vehicle. It blasted forward and he felt himself pushed against the seat as it went. He tried to flip the levers and it swerved left and right and then spun around in a full circle before he could stabilize it again.

Allie was clutching the wall, trying not to get sick, and Caius exclaimed angrily, "This thing handles like a fat man on a unicycle!"

At length he got the hang of controlling it, and the ride became more tolerable. However, the occasional hiccup still jolted him nearly out of his seat. Overall, though, the journey got easier.

What was not easy to deal with was the awkwardness of the situation Caius was in. He knew he would have to talk to Allie and end this 'relationship' now before it became a real problem. He just did not know how to do it. And it even occurred to him that he had not even spoken a word to her about it before. This whole absurd thing had developed through his discussions with everyone except her. It was rather ironic. But he had to start somewhere, so he began with a simple question.

"How is it that you're so good with machines?" he asked. The question was simple enough, but it shattered the uneasy silence and sounded almost like a demand considering the quiet context.

"Huh?" she said back. She was rather surprised by the question, as it seemed to have arisen from nothing. "What do you mean?"

He retraced his verbal steps, said, "I mean—how did you get to learn so much about droids and computers…" he paused, then added on, "how is it that you're so good at this?"

"Oh," she responded simply, beginning to understand the query. She said, "I don't know—it's just something I've always been doing. Ever since I was a kid I had to work on droids, so it just kinda carried over."

"You worked on droids a lot?"

She took control of the conversation, answered, "Yeah. It had to do with my home planet. It was an old, backwater place on the outer rim. My mom and dad were farmers and I was the only child. We depended on droids to do a lot of the work, so I grew up around them. So I got to know how to fix them and stuff."

"Where's your family now?"

She sighed, said solemnly but quickly, "I don't know."

Caius was silent. She continued, "They disappeared. I was in my late teens and the Mandalorians hit our world at the start of the war. There was some fighting but the planet was conquered easily. My parents were lost in it. I never heard from them again. I stayed on the farm and worked it myself with the droids until I had enough money to leave the planet and travel to Coruscant. I've worked there as a hacker and slicer since."

Caius was thinking about her parents. He said, "That's terrible…". There was an awkward pause and then he continued, "You don't know where they are?" She nodded. "They might still be alive, you never know."

"I suppose that's possible, but I don't have much hope. You know how the Mandalorians are."

"Only too well," Caius said distantly.

"Right, you fought in the war," said Allie. "You asked me about my past, it's only fair to turn the tables. Where is your family?"

Caius shrugged, still keeping his hands on the levers, said, "I don't know either. The Jedi take children from their families when they're young. I was only four years old."

"They do that? You don't remember your family at all?" she asked.

"No," he answered, "just vague recollections. It's been so long and they're so distorted I can't distinguish them from dreams or imaginings. It may as well have been that they never existed."

"How can the Jedi do that?"

"You mean how do they justify it? They say that it's necessary in order to train the child. Older people tend to defy the teachers instead of accepting it. And they oftentimes go rogue or worse. Xristos is an example, though a tamer kind. He doesn't agree with hardly anything that they teach. If they can avoid people like him, they will."

"What about you?" she asked. "Do you agree with them?"

He laughed to himself quietly, answered; "I'd be an idiot if I did. They exiled me from the Order."

"They…did?" she asked, confused.

"You didn't know that?" he asked.

"How was I supposed to? No one ever talks about that, and it's not like I would come up and ask you."

"Sorry," Caius said sincerely, "I'm just so used to everyone knowing about my past that it's easy to forget what other people know." He lowered his voice and said in a somewhat grudging manner, "I was kicked out of the Order. A long time ago."

"Why?"

"For going off to fight in the Mandalorian Wars. I disobeyed the High Council and chose to follow Revan and disregard their 'wisdom'. When I came back, they punished me."

"Why would they punish you for going back?"

"I don't know—that's what I wanted to find out from them. But Kreia killed them before they could fully explain why. And Vrook never wants to tell me anything. All I know, I think, is that they did it because they were afraid. Something happened to me in the war, and it made me different. They were afraid of what happened to me and what I could become. So they sent me away, probably hoping I'd get killed out in exile."

"That's awful!" she said. "I didn't know the Jedi could be so cruel."

"They can," he said with some disdain, "just look at Bastila. That's the kind of mental wreck the Jedi can create."

Allie glared at him, not exactly pleased with his words.

He said cautiously, "That was a joke…"

She just shook her head.

Caius continued, "But really, it's hard to rationalize their teachings with the real world. It drives some people crazy."

"Does it drive you crazy?"

"I don't care anymore. I am completely neutral; the teachings of the Jedi don't mean anything to me anymore. Not since Malachor."

"Wasn't that the final battle of the war?"

"Yes, and it was a brutal fight. Thousands died, and I lost my soul in the process."

The ambiguity of the statement confused Allie, and she asked, "Surely it wasn't your fault, I don't think you lost your humanity…"

Caius interrupted her, said, "No, really. I lost the Force at that battle. All the deaths reached out to me through the Force and the pain was so tremendous it almost killed me. I lost consciousness, and as a defense mechanism, I somehow killed the Force in me. It died, and it left only a void. That's why the Jedi teachings don't mean anything to me, they can't mean anything—I lost the Force. And that wasn't the only thing; a lot of people I knew were killed too. My best friend, a Jedi named Marcus Celer died there—he was just another casualty in a list of millions…it was terrible."

Allie did not say anything directly. She was unsure how to respond to such a weird and somewhat frightful thing. She didn't want to talk about Caius's friend, so she said, "But…it clearly means something to you because you use a lightsaber and wear the robes. And you can still use the Force. If you really felt nothing for the Jedi, would you still work with them? Or still identify with them?"

"No, I suppose not. I still adhere to their teachings, how can I not? I'm conditioned, have been since I was little. But they _can't _mean anything to me because I lost the Force. Even if I wanted to be a Jedi, I couldn't."

"Do you want to be one?" she asked.

Caius was stunned by the question. He had not really thought of this in this way, he had to admit. Did he want to be a Jedi? "I…I don't know," he confessed. "I guess I haven't given it much thought—I just assumed it wasn't possible."

"I think it's possible. You have the Force back. You could easily rejoin if you wanted—I bet they would let you."

He had not thought of this. Was she right? Maybe. He looked over to her; she was staring right at him. _Yeah_, he thought, _I think she is right_. He could not believe it, but this possibility was something that was totally new to him. Maybe he should go back to the Order after this. Any other lifestyle was something he could not embrace. So maybe he could go back—but did he want to? He wasn't really sure, but at least he had a new question to ponder.

"Maybe," he said. "I still don't know, but…" he looked at her. He looked into her dark brown eyes as he said sincerely, "Thank you, Allie." They continued looking at each other, Caius foolishly not keeping his eyes on the road. He really looked straight into Allie's eyes for, what he thought, was the first time—or at least the first time he really paid attention. She was very pretty. At least he thought she was. Her face was the perfect combination of pleasant radiance and beauty, and she had that infectious smile. He had to admit; he always had thought that women with darker features intrigued him. Her brown hair and tan skin fit his tastes perfectly. _Yes_, he thought, _she is pretty—but I can't do this. It just doesn't work_.

It was evident that, beneath her superficially attractive exterior, she had a nimble mind. She was nice and helpful too. Really, she was too good for him. But then how was all of this developing the way it was? It was going too far, Caius thought, even though he was not sure what he thought anymore.

But he decided he had to end it. And now.

The whole thought process had only taken a moment, and he had only looked into her eyes for mere seconds before turning back to the road in front of him, but he had thought it through. It was now—he had to say something now.

"Allie…" he said slowly, swallowing hard before continuing.

"Yes?" she asked.

"This isn't going to work," he answered bluntly.

"Uh, what…isn't going to work?" she asked, rather perplexed.

"Us—you and me. This whole thing, it isn't going to work."

"I still don't understand…" she insisted.

Caius, however, was not buying it. "Don't pretend," he said, "there is no use ignoring it. We have to solve this now."

Allie did not say a thing, and Caius only continued on. He said, "I don't really even remember how this began. But neither of us has said two words to the other in this time—Allie, we've got to address it."

"I…um…okay then…" she said a little apprehensively. "What are you going to say?"

Caius took a deep breath, said, "Everyone was right about me. I may not be a Jedi in name, but I still am one in spirit. I still act like one. Allie, I can't get involved with any woman. It's just…who I am. It wouldn't…be right," he said, uncertain.

This time Allie just waited. There was an uncomfortable silence before Caius began again. He said, "I don't wan this to sound mean or anything…but it can't work. I feel like we're characters in a bad romance novel—and the idiot author keeps trying to force us together. We don't fit—I'm an ex-Jedi…and you're a computer specialist. Doesn't that just sound odd to you?"

"What?" she said, rather offended at his comment. "That's your reason?"

Caius was rambling. He knew what he had to say, but he wasn't sure how to say it. He wanted to simply say that there was no way any relationship between them would work out—but he could not find the words. It could not manifest. He then asked, seemingly randomly, "Why…me?"

This time Allie responded, said, "I don't know." It sounded more like a lamentable confession, "I really don't know. But you've helped me a lot. It's not as if I can explain it—maybe because you saved me on Nar Shaddaa. And then you kept watch when I was asleep just because I asked you to. You didn't have to do that…" She then broke off.

"I don't really know either," Caius admitted.

"I didn't mean to get the wrong signals…" Allie said hesitantly.

"You didn't," he stated. "I…Allie…well, hmm." He paused, then resumed, "I am attracted to you," he said somewhat suddenly.

Allie looked at him oddly, but did not talk.

He said, "And that's what makes this difficult. You are…different. No—that's not right. There's something alluring about you and I can't explain it. But…the reason I bring this up is…we have to end it. Now." He gulped, "Whatever possibilities or any sort of scenarios we can envision, they aren't meant to be. Maybe in a different life…"

"That's it?" she questioned rather brusquely. "That's all you have to say? I understand that this is…complicated. But you can't just do nothing like this!"

"I'm not doing nothing," he answered. "I'm saying that we have to drop this. Pretend it never happened."

"And you think it'll just go away if you pretend?"

"Yes."

Allie was not happy. She said angrily, "That is so…childish! You can't just will your feelings away."

"That's what the Jedi teach," he replied, staring straight out the viewport.

"Yeah," Allie said, crossing her arms, "and look where it got them. If I'm not mistaken—they're all dead."

The comment stuck in Caius like a barb. Yes, most of them were dead. He may not really identify with the Jedi, but he did not believe his fallen comrades should be subjected to callous remarks like that. Even if he was an exile, those deceased had been his friends.

He said, "How can you say that?" Before Allie could speak, he interrupted and continued, "No—never mind. Forget it."

"You're doing a lot to make this worse," she said.

Caius said vaguely, "I don't know how to say this..."

"What do you expect me to do, then? How about you just say what you mean and forget all this cryptic fluff."

Caius was getting a little angry too. He said firmly, "_Fine_. All right, you want me to? Here goes. I like you, Allie. For some inexplicable reason I am attracted to you. But I don't want to be. I don't want to ever get involved with any woman—it just does not _fit_ with _who I am_. You understand now?" He took a deep breath after expelling all the words, then tacked on needlessly, "If I could change the past, you wouldn't have come on this mission—then we could have avoided all of this."

The Exile regretted saying this the moment his mouth had closed. But it was too late—the damage had been done. He chanced a wary glance at Allie as he drove, and she just did nothing. She turned away and faced out the opposite side of the vehicle.

Caius tried to apologize, began, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I mean, I don't want you to think—"

"Just stop talking," she shot at him, though she did not look at him while speaking.

"No, that was wrong—I shouldn't have said that. I'm glad—"

"I said stop talking."

"I'm sorry…" Caius stated again before falling silent. He really could not do this the right way. Somehow he knew that the conversation would be difficult, but he had to do it. He had hoped he would not hurt Allie by talking about such things, but now he saw that it was rather inevitable. He wished that none of it had ever happened.

* * *

Caius sternly rebuked himself for the remainder of the trip, but he dared not say a thing. The silence was suffocating, but it was better than the alternative. He regretted saying what he had said, but he tried to console himself by insisting that it was necessary. He had to end their 'relationship' before it really began. Just as he had with the Handmaiden and with Visas. Somehow, this happened to him a lot. This was the only time he actually felt that the feeling was mutual—but still, he had to avoid it. His mission was too important to be compromised.

No one spoke as they drove further into the darkened snow, the gray light evolving into an unpleasantly dark shadow world. The light snow falling around them did not alleviate the dismal feeling of the place.

Eventually they arrived at the crash site. The Sith ship was not huge, but it was larger than the _Hawk_. It was cracked into three parts, severed near the bow and again in the middle. It was blackened and charred at the break points, but other than that, it was more or less intact, as Dustil had said.

Caius stopped the vehicle and got out. As he turned to look, Allie was already gone—she moved quickly. The Exile moved to the back of the transport and opened up the back door, letting HK and T3 out.

"Help us find the hyperdrive," he ordered them.

The droids complied, and they set about scouring the wreckage. They all split up, and Caius periodically bumped into them as he moved through the derelict ship. T3 only beeped happily, while Allie avoided him whenever he accidentally approached her. The Exile was growing tired of the silence, so when he found HK again, he did not allow the droid to go.

"Query:" HK began, "Master, why are you not permitting me to leave?"

Caius did not oblige HK with an answer, only asked, "HK, remember when you told me that love is blasting someone in the knee with a sniper rifle?"

"Answer: Of course, master."

"You were right."

HK was unimpressed, said, "Query: Master, when have I ever been wrong?"

Caius did not answer the question; he preferred to treat it as rhetorical. He looked at the ground as he walked, but he wasn't really paying attention to what he was seeing. In front of him, laying at his very feet, was a dead Sith. It was inside the destroyed ship, probably died during the crash. Caius merely stared at it as he was thinking. HK stood guard next to him, looking around and satisfied with his master's inactivity.

Suddenly Caius had an idea.

He said, "HK, find all of the dead Sith you can and take their uniforms and armor."

"Statement: Very well."

It occurred to the Exile that having the uniforms at their disposal would be incredibly useful. Especially if they ever needed to disguise themselves as Sith. He stole the clothes of the Sith before him as HK moved off to do the same elsewhere.

He did the same to a few more deceased Sith until T3 startled him. The little droid beeped excessively and Caius almost jumped out of his skin.

"What is it, T3?" he asked.

The little droid said that he and Allie had found the hyperdrive, and the mechanic had successfully stolen the necessary parts from it. They were ready to go.

"All right, T3, let's get out of here."

Caius moved towards the Sith transport and found Allie and HK waiting there for him. He opened the back of the vehicle and let the droids in, but not before he and the assassin droid had loaded all of the Sith uniforms into the back as well. Once he was done, he shut the door and moved to the front of the vehicle. He opened it and Allie got in on the other side.

"Did you find the right parts?" he asked her innocently.

"Let's go," she replied sternly.

* * *

"What should we do?" Bastila asked Xristos. "Can we go on with the mission now? The Sith probably know we're here."

As much as Bastila wanted to find Revan, she was nervous now. The Sith had intercepted and shot them down. They probably were completely aware that a Republic ship was cavorting about inside their territory. She did not want to end up dead.

The two Jedi and Elliott sat in the main hold, just outside the medical room.

"What are you proposing?" Xristos asked.

"Well… I don't know. I just don't know if it's safe for us to continue. Especially since we have to go to the Sith homeworld."

"Well, I suppose turning back is a possibility," said the old Jedi.

"No," said Dustil's feeble voice from inside the medical room. "We can't turn back. Even if we wanted to, we don't have enough fuel to do both."

"Dustil, you need to rest!" Bastila insisted.

"I am resting, but I have to say something," he retorted. "You didn't see what that Sith showed me. I saw their plans; I saw what they were going to do. We _have_ to keep going, we can't stop. They are planning an invasion, and it's going to happen no matter what we do. The only thing we _can_ do it find Revan and try to learn how to stop it. That's the only thing we can do." Dustil's weakened and faded out as he finished, and he coughed several times once he finished with his speech.

Xristos sided with him, said, "I agree with Dustil. We're going to have to find Revan."

"We should take Dustil back to a hospital on an outer rim world," Bastila suggested, "and then maybe we could come back."

"No," Dustil insisted, "you didn't have to talk to that Sith. Their invasion is starting soon; we don't have time to backtrack. We have to go."

Bastila just sighed and said, "I wish our communications equipment worked, we could radio Carth and ask him what he thinks we should do."

"But wishful thinking won't help," said Xristos, "we have to make the decision on our own. And I think Dustil's right—we have to keep going. If we don't find Revan, then _we _have to figure out a way to stop the Sith. The only way I can see doing either of those is going to the Sith homeworld."

Bastila sighed. Elliott had just watched the discussion in silence; merely turning his head as the two Jedi spoke. His observation was interrupted when they heard the screeching noise of the Sith transport grinding to a halt outside. Moments later, Allie strode briskly through the ship, said, "Hello" very tersely, and then went into the engine room.

Caius and the two droids came in slowly after her, HK carrying several of the Sith uniforms. The Exile said, "Hey Elliott, can you help me carry these in?"

The pilot grunted, but resigned to aiding the Exile. The two men strode outside and moved to the transport.

"So, how'd that go?" Elliott asked ambiguously.

"Not well," answered the Exile.

"What, you didn't find the parts we need?"

"No—we did. I meant Allie."

"Oh," said the pilot, "well, sucks for you."

Caius tried to change the subject as he piled several of the Sith uniforms on top of each other for carrying. He asked, "What's the plan?"

"Same," answered Elliott. "We're going to the Sith homeworld—mostly because our other options are pretty much nonexistent. It's either go back and wait for a Sith invasion unless Revan succeeds—if he's alive—or go find him and learn how to stop it."

"I'd rather not put my trust in Revan that way," answered Caius as the men moved back towards the _Hawk_.

"You don't trust him?"

"I didn't mean it like that—I just mean, I'd rather find out. I don't want to just hope he succeeds. We can't just do nothing."

"Right," said Elliott. "Well, we're leaving as soon as Allie fixes the hyperdrive and we can get off of this damn world."

"I can't wait," said Caius.

* * *

Mira was now well enough to leave the hospital. She could even walk fifty yards by herself without stopping. Slowly, she was regaining her strength. Atton was glad to see she was all right. He had rented out a hotel room on the Citadel Station and the two of them had been staying in it for a few days. He wasn't sure what he was going to do after, but he had to make sure Mira was all right first.

Mira was sitting on her bed with her arms crossed as Atton was trying to talk to her.

"Come on, Mira. You have to eat something—you heard the doctor."

"I'm not hungry," she insisted.

"It doesn't matter that you're not hungry," he responded, "you have to eat. You're body needs the nutrition."

"All right, _mom_," she said.

"Don't start with that. I'm just trying to help you, you brat."

Mira silently moved to the edge of her bed, she was about to force herself up when Atton came over and put his hand around her arm and pulled her up.

She exclaimed, "I can get up by myself!"

"You couldn't yesterday," he answered.

"Just let me do it," was the stern reply.

"All right," Atton backed off. He muttered to himself, "Why do I put up with this?"

Mira heard him as she slowly took one step at a time until she made it to a nearby table. She plopped down into a chair and said, "I thought it was because you couldn't bear to live without me?"

"Ha ha," Atton said sarcastically. "I promised Caius I would help you, so I am."

"You're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart?" she asked, his voice drenched with the same sarcasm Atton had displayed.

He sat down in a chair on the opposite side of their chrome table. He said, "Sure I am. I'm the suave, debonair pilot who's helping the damsel in distress because an old friend asked him to. Can you _be _a better person?"

"I'm _not _a damsel," insisted Mira as she poked at her food. "If I were strong enough, I would punch you in the face."

"But you're not strong enough," said Atton mischievously, "because you're a damsel."

Atton chuckled at his joke before a messy pile of substance hit him in the face. He reached up with his hand to wipe it off, and saw that it was the food substitute that Mira was eating.

"Hey," he said, "why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Mira asked innocently.

"This," Atton answered, and then threw another dollop of the white substance at Mira. She tried to block it, but it hit her in the forehead. She started laughing and then threw another volley at Atton. The two exchanged rounds, the unappetizing food getting strewn about their entire hotel room. Globs of the stuff went flying everywhere. Atton stood up and used his chair as a shield as Mira threw more of it at him. She could not make contact, though, and she could not move from her chair due to weakness.

Atton then reached out with the Force. The whole plate of food, or what remained of it, was suddenly turned over and thrown at Mira's chest. It collided with her and stuck there as the food substitute worked like glue.

"Cheater!" Mira accused, "you can't use the Force."

"Why not?" Atton asked, letting down his chair/shield. "There aren't any rules!"

He set down the chair in front of the table again and moved in front of it. He moved to sit down, but he never made contact with the chair, as Mira had kicked it backwards with the Force. He lost his balance and fell straight onto the floor. He fell onto his back and almost rolled over his head.

He quickly pushed himself up and sprang to his feet, glaring at Mira. She only shrugged innocently and said, "No rules."

"I forgot you could use the Force," Atton admitted.

"I forgot you could, too," replied Mira.

Atton sat down at the table again and said, "All right, you really should eat."

"Eat what?" she asked, showing him her plate. There was nothing on it.

Atton glanced around the room and noticed that the walls and floor were scored with the vile food, craters of unappealing sustenance all over the place. There was even one sticking to the ceiling.

"I guess you're done," he said.

"Finally!" she said. She then used the Force to gather up all the food and dump it into a nearby trash receptacle. "I can't believe how long I lived without the Force," she said, "it sure makes things easier."

"Sure as hell does," said Atton, "those Jedi have it easy."

"Except for the fact that they're all dead," answered Mira.

"They're not all dead," he replied. "There's about twenty of them—at the temple on Coruscant."

Mira was surprised, said, "Why didn't you tell me that? We should go see them."

"What? Why?" Atton asked.

"Because…we're Jedi?" she said, though it was partially a question.

"No, we're not," he answered. "Like hell I'm a Jedi."

Mira thought for a second, then said, "You use a lightsaber. And the Force. Doesn't that make you a Jedi?"

"I could be a Sith," he answered.

Mira laughed out loud, said, "You're as much a Sith as I am a damsel."

"I was a Sith once," Atton admitted.

"You…were?" Mira asked, stunned.

"Yeah…" he said, "I served under Revan. But I fled."

"Well, you clearly aren't a Sith now," she answered. "You should go to the temple."

"I don't _want_ to go to the temple," he said sternly.

"But _I_do. Caius wanted us to become Jedi, I don't know why, but he did. Otherwise he wouldn't have trained us. I want to go to the Temple. When he comes back we can meet him there."

"I'm not going to any Jedi temple," Atton insisted.

"Well, you promised to take care of me, right?"

"Well…"

"I'm going to the temple. If you want to watch over your damsel, then you better come with me."

Atton sighed and put his hands on his knees, leaning forward. He asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because Caius wanted me to. Isn't that a good reason? That's why you're doing what you are. We could even wait for him there. And I can help people, just like he helped me. That's what I want to do."

"That seems uncharacteristic of you," Atton accused.

"No it's not!" she asserted, "I always help people. Remember, I protect my bounties."

"Okay," Atton said, defeated, "I'll take you to the Jedi temple. But don't expect me to stay there with you."

"I think you will," she said somewhat cryptically. She stood up quickly and was about to head towards her bed. She said, "I'm tired, I'm going—" She trailed off and lost her balance. It looked like she was about to fall, but Atton quickly sprinted over to her and caught her by the arm, holding her up.

He made sure she was all right and then picked her up and carried her towards her bed. He said, "Looks like you aren't well enough to go anywhere yet." He gently laid her down and said, "All right, you should sleep."

"Atton," she said, "I think I'm falling in l—". She stopped her sentence and cleared her throat, said, "I think I almost fell down."

Atton was unsure what this meant, said, "Uh… yeah, you did. Don't worry, though. You're fine now. I'm going to go out, will you be all right by yourself?"

She said softly, "Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Okay," said Atton, "call if you need anything. I'll lock the door—you should get some rest."

"Goodnight," Mira said.

"Goodnight, Mira."

Atton left the room and made sure the door was locked. He had his personal comm in case Mira needed anything. But now he needed to get out and do something else. Her last few comments had confused him, and he needed to clear his head. But how should he clear his head?

_Pazaak_, he thought to himself, a smile curling around his lips. The game enticed him, and besides, he was running low on money because of Mira. He needed some more, and this was a perfect way to get it.

_I sure am doing a lot for her_, he thought. _Forget it_, _I need a drink—or twelve. Then pazaak_. He then marched off towards the closest cantina.

_A/N: Cool, lots of feedback from the last one. Thanks for your thoughts, peoples. I'll try to work on the powerfulness aspect of the characters in future chapters. This one, however, gave me the most trouble-I think out of every one in the story, this was the hardest to do. The...romantic aspects of this story are not easy. I feel I may have gotten in over my head._

_Anyway, they're getting closer! Next up: Malacandra._


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Allie had fixed the hyperdrive. No one else really understood what was wrong with it or what had to be done, but the mechanic silently went to work on the drive and within a few hours it was fixed. They quietly lifted off of the planet, the _Hawk_ convulsing as it tried to fight its way out of the hole it burrowed into the ground in the crash. Elliott took it into orbit around Samarkand and then jumped into hyperspace—en route to Malacandra.

Their plan was the same. They would have to go to the Sith world no matter what. They would stay far out of orbit and inspect it, if they thought they could chance a landing, then they would. Otherwise, they would have to turn back. Dustil was adamant, however. He believed they would have to land and take on the Sith regardless of the obstacles.

Caius sat with him in the medical room while they were in transit. Dustil was well enough to sit up and walk around a bit, but he was in no condition to move much at a time. He was still weak and sick from the poison. The young Jedi was trying to sit up as he spoke, but he would get tired and then have to lean against the wall while talking.

He said to Caius, "We can't go back now—we have to find Revan."

"I know," said the Exile, "but if there's too many Sith—or we can't find a way to sneak onto the planet, then we might not be able to. If it's too dangerous then we'll have to go back. We can just tell Nantaris and Carth that the Sith threat is there…but we don't know how to defeat them."

"If they're that strong, then the Republic would stand no chance in its current state. Caius—we have to find Revan. If the Sith world looks impenetrable, then we have even more reason to do it."

Caius thought on what he said. He was probably right. The Exile rubbed his head with his hand and felt a bit of resistance. He was surprised at first, but then realized that they had been away from the Republic long enough that his hair was beginning to grow back. He had shaved his face as often as he could considering the circumstances, but not his head. A visitor interrupted his thoughts about hygiene.

Bastila joined the conversation. She, standing against the nearby doorframe, said, "You sound just like your father."

Dustil did not really move as she entered the room and sat down on a small chair next to Caius.

"We don't even know if Revan's there," Caius admitted. "We're just guessing."

"He's there," Bastila said quietly, almost to herself.

"How do you know?" Caius asked dubiously.

"There is…a bond," she said, not looking either of them in the eyes, "between me and him. It's been there since the Civil War, but when he left it almost died. Now that we're getting closer…I can feel it. We're getting near."

"Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" Caius asked.

"I did not even know what it was," she admitted, "it has been such a long time since I felt anything through it. It was just an empty void for years, but now I can sense him again."

Dustil did not say anything, although he looked like he was interested. Although, it was hard to tell with his face so pale and beleaguered with pain.

Bastila continued speaking, but turned to Caius this time. She said, "You of all people should understand how the Force bond works."

Caius nodded, said, "You're…right." He looked at her, focused on her eyes, and he saw that she seemed very uncertain, not that he was there, but that she would find him. "Don't worry," he assured her, "I believe you. If he is there, we'll find him."

"Now you're certain?" she asked hesitantly, noticing his rather rapid change of heart.

"If he's there, we'll find him," he answered again, implying that was all that could be done.

"I'm glad you're changing your mind," said Dustil, "we have to have everyone on board."

Bastila smiled softly and turned to the young Jedi, but said, "You're not going anywhere, Dustil. Since you seem to be so bent on staying away from a hospital until after this, we can't allow you to get hurt or sick again. You're going to have to stay on the ship—no matter where we take it."

Dustil looked like he was about to disagree—he moved sharply—but suddenly he went sluggish, as though a shot of pain forced him to agree with her. He leaned against the wall again and nodded slowly.

Caius changed the subject, asked, "Do you think the Sith will know we're coming?"

"I don't know," Bastila answered. "That ship that intercepted us might have just been an accident. And since we were on that planet for several days without any other Sith interference, I think it's safe to say that they did not have an opportunity to transmit any information before Dustil took it down."

Caius lightly hit Dustil on the knee, said, "Good shot, kid."

Dustil smirked slightly and then slumped sideways slightly, falling asleep.

* * *

"Are you all right?" Xristos asked as he found Allie in the cargo hold, furiously tinkering away at a mortified T3.

She didn't say anything to him and kept working. HK was standing nearby, relishing the torment inflicted upon his rival. She probably wouldn't have stopped had the little droid not frightened her by shrieking a horrible wail and then flying backwards into a wall. Smoke began slithering out of the crevices in his frame.

"I think you should stop working on the droid," Xristos suggested as helpfully as possible.

HK disagreed, said, "Query: Old meatbag, why ask her to stop? Statement: The little droid deserved every second of that."

Allie threw down her hydrospanner and stood up, facing Xristos. She then looked down and stretched out her arm, having discarded the sling.

"What were you doing?" asked the old Jedi.

"Nothing," she sighed. "Just trying to upgrade T3."

Xristos looked at the steaming droid, his head twitching unnaturally. "Uh…I think he's okay for now," he said. He looked back at Allie who was standing in silence, though with a very inhospitable aura about her. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Caius…is…a jerk," she stated flatly.

"I see," Xristos answered. "So I take it he tried talking it out with you?"

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, said, "So you know too, huh? This is so stupid. He's right, I shouldn't have come on this trip—it was a bad idea."

"He said that?" Xristos questioned, "maybe he is a jerk."

"Statement: He also said that loving the mechanic meatbag is like getting shot in the knee," HK added thoughtfully.

Allie sighed and looked down at her feet. Xristos frowned and said to HK, "Why don't you go away? You're never any help anyway."

"Statement: You are not the master, you cannot tell me what to do," retorted the droid.

It looked as though the droid won before Xristos reached out with his hand. A blast of energy flew towards HK and suddenly the droid's head fell down, his red eyes shutting off. The beam then stopped. The droid fell backwards in silence and crashed into the ground.

"Hmm," Xristos said, musing, "I haven't let my temper get the best of me like that in years." He turned to Allie, said, "Sorry you had to see that…"

"Sorry…?" she questioned, "I was going to thank you."

"It's just that I used to have a bad temper—it's something my wife always complained about. And then the Jedi tried really hard to work it out of me. Since I was older…they had a hard time of it."

"Really?" she asked, "what about your wife? She didn't try?"

"Oh, she did," he said with a chuckle, "the Jedi could have taken a few pointers from her."

"Well," began Allie, "I guess it worked. I never would've guessed you had a bad temper."

"Thanks," he said, "it's good to know I have a bit of control, at least."

"I wish I did," Allie lamented, "I feel like bashing someone's face in with a wrench."

"Caius's face?" asked the old man. "I'm sure you'd regret that after you did it."

She shrugged, said, "I suppose, but it would sure feel good."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" asked the old Jedi.

Allie's face twisted, as she did not like the proposition. "No," she stated, "please don't. I don't want anyone to be a mediator. I'll just keep to myself until the mission is over, collect my pay, and then leave as fast as I can."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Xristos said. "Even though Caius may be…a jerk…the rest of us care about you. I care about you. I don't want to see you stewing like this for the rest of the mission. Frankly, we need you, Allie."

The mechanic did not say anything in response; she just looked into Xristos's old, blue eyes. Some of the anger in her aura subsided, and stopped wringing her hands and stood straight.

Xristos put his hand on her shoulder and began leading her out of the cargo hold. He said, "Come on, let's go to the cockpit. Elliott needs some company."

"Thanks, Xristos," Allie said.

They turned and left, abandoning the two droids and leaving them as smoldering wrecks.

* * *

The rest of the flight through hyperspace was relatively uneventful. Eventually Allie went back to the cargo hold and reactivated HK, and then undid the damage she inflicted upon T3.

After several hours, Elliott informed the crew that they would be dropping out of hyperspace. They gathered together in the cockpit, the entire crew—with the exception of Dustil—was present. It was a tight fit, but they all managed to stand inside the small area. They watched in silent apprehension as the blue vortex of hyperspace was about to fade out of existence.

Elliott flipped a few switches, and the funnel straightened out and disappeared. Stars streaked into existence, and then a gray orb floated towards them at tremendous speed.

"Is everything in this part of the galaxy gray?" asked Caius. No one answered.

They came closer to the planet, but Elliott kept them far out of range of anything that could be orbiting it. Closer examination revealed that the planet was, indeed, well fortified. But only on one side.

"Is that their fleet?" asked Bastila, looking at a massive collection of floating objects holding orbit over the planet's western hemisphere. "It's…huge," she said with trepidation. They could not count the number of warships, there were too many, but distinct from all of them was a huge dreadnaught. It dwarfed even the biggest of the remaining ships. They all hovered about it, the massive vessel in the middle of the fleet.

"They're…preparing an invasion," Caius said ominously. "Dustil was right."

"There's no way the Republic could stand up to that fleet," Xristos said. "We simply don't have the manpower. If Revan knows how to defeat them, he would be our only shot."

"He's here," Bastila asserted. "We have to find him."

Elliott interrupted the conversation, said, "They're all gathered on one side of the planet, we can sneak in through the opposite hemisphere, but who knows what's on the ground over there."

"We may just have to chance it," said Caius.

"It's your call," Elliott informed him.

The Exile stopped and thought a moment. This was it—they were in front of Malacandra, the Sith capital world. The Republic had thought Revan dead, but if he was really here—they would have to find him. They would have to help him. He was the key to defeating the Sith Empire—the one man who knew anything about their secretive enemy. The more he thought, the more he realized they had no other option. He looked over at Bastila. Her steel gaze met his, and then she very slowly nodded. Only once, but Caius returned the favor and then looked back at Elliott. He said, "Put us down on the far side of the planet."

"All right—hold on, everyone."

The _Ebon Hawk_ moved stealthily through Sith space and towards the opposite end of the enemy planet. It silently descended into Malacandra's atmosphere. They had taken every precaution to avoid detection, and so no Sith scanner—if there were any—discovered them. As they delved further into the planet's atmosphere, they were relieved to see that there were large portions of the planet that were uninhabited. Large, rocky canyons and mountain ranges were visible, with no traces of civilization among them. Elliott carefully decided on a particularly dead-looking area that was, unfortunately, very far away from any city.

"I don't think we can get any closer to an inhabited area than this," Caius stated.

"You have such little faith in me," Elliott responded. "Just watch."

The pilot found a deep gully and dipped the _Hawk_ inside of it, flying through the canyon and towards what seemed to be a Sith city. They were too far below the near mountain range to ever be spotted. The crew, though, was uneasy about the flying.

"Elliott!" said Bastila, "this is too dangerous! We can't fly through a canyon!"

"Well, we are. Or, correction, I am. Trust me, babe, I know what I'm doing."

Bastila bit her lower lip and watched nervously. The rest of the crew joined her, and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief when Elliott finally put the ship down in a dusty gully surrounded by several large mountains and a convenient, natural archway.

"There," said the pilot, "and we're only a few miles outside of that city."

"We should not have come this close," said Bastila. "They could find us."

"Bastila, love, there's no way anyone could've tracked us through that canyon. Even if they were looking."

Bastila sighed, said, "Stop talking to me like that."

Elliott just laughed to himself. He said, "You know you love it."

"All right, let's stop the nonsense and discuss what we're going to do next," Xristos said, killing Elliott's flirtatious jabs at Bastila.

"It seemed too easy to get in," said Caius.

"That wasn't easy," Elliott retorted.

"But it was almost as if they let us in on this side, like they're planning something," said the Exile.

"They're clearly planning an invasion," remarked Bastila.

"Should we warn the Republic?" Caius asked.

"And tell them what?" Bastila countered. "That there's a massive Sith armada about to invade—one which they have no chance of defeating? We don't even know where or when the attack is going to be. We'd cause a panic and still no one would know what to do. Even if our communications equipment worked we would have nothing to say. We have to find Revan—he _is _here, and he is our only shot. He must know how to defeat the Sith."

"If he does," began Caius, "and he _is _alive, then why is he waiting?"

"The only way to find out is to ask him," she answered.

Caius sighed slightly. He did not especially like this, it seemed too dangerous to go looking around the Sith planet for Revan—but Bastila was right, they had to do it. "So what do we do?" he asked.

"We go out," she answered. "And we look for him. We can use the Sith disguises you got on that other planet."

* * *

It was not difficult to choose who would go. Bastila was the most important since she had the link to Revan—though some ambiguous power, she was able to feel his proximity now that they had gotten close enough to him. But she could never describe it—she just knew.

Caius and Xristos were to go with her. Dustil could not, due to his weakened state, and neither Allie nor Elliott were suited to the type of excursion.

Caius had donned one of the complicated Sith outfits; he did so faster than the others. Without putting the veil and cloth over his head, he strode towards the exit ramp of the _Hawk_. He found Bastila coming the other direction—she seemed to be adjusting the sleeve on her right arm so as to put on a long, dark glove. He then noticed, for the first time, that her arm was sickeningly disfigured. In terms of shape, it was fine, but a horrid scar—thick, pink, and ugly—ran up her forearm and down to the outside of her elbow. The contrast it created with her the rest of her flawless skin was truly jolting, and he did not know what to say—especially since she noticed him staring at it.

The Exile felt awkward looking at her old wound, said, "Uh…"

She quickly pulled down her sleeve and said, "It was from an accident. A duel a long time ago that got out of control."

"Oh, uh…okay," he said lamely. He wondered more about it, but he did not want to ask her. Now was not the time, anyway. In truth, he was surprised to find such a mark on her. She always wore long sleeves or robes, so it was not surprising that he hadn't seen it. But it was such shocking to him that someone who was famous simply for her beauty would bear that kind of blemish. He knew he was being superficial, though, and quickly forced it out of his mind. Her scar was not a problem.

The main problem, though, was that of height. The Sith were, at least the ones they had encountered, somewhat tall. Bastila was not. Even Caius and Xristos were shorter than the average trooper, but not by that much. Bastila, however, was a good five inches shorter than the two of them, and it was obvious when they donned their disguises.

"What do we do about your height?" Caius asked Bastila.

"Hope no one notices," she answered.

"That is…not a sound plan," responded the Exile.

"It's our only option—we'll just have to…avoid being obvious."

Caius sighed. He did not like this. Subterfuge was not his greatest skill anyway, but walking straight into the Sith capital world dressed like one of their soldiers—with no knowledge of their etiquette and behavior—was tops on his list of worst ideas ever. The only consolation to him was that this was the only way to find Revan. And Bastila seemed to be cognizant of his presence—or at least, she knew which direction to go.

It did not take long for them to emerge from the dismal canyon and gaze upon the city itself.

The Sith city was incredibly large, with spindly, dark towers rising up all over the horizon. The architecture was distinctly similar to that found on the Trayus Academy at Malachor. The buildings seemed to be constructed of smooth granite, and they were very symmetrical. The familiar red eyes that were born by all the doors and walls of the Academy were also present. The smooth exteriors were also similar to that of the ghost tomb on Korriban. It could not be a coincidence—these were the pure Sith, the ones left over from the wars of long past; the followers of Ludo Kressh and Naga Sadow. They were not destroyed, merely driven into exile. And here they stayed—and grew strong. No doubt their horrifying appearances were a result of isolation from society—inbreeding and separate evolution. They had been absent for many millennia.

What was the most disconcerting to him were the strange forms of propaganda they came across in the city. Huge paintings and posters of the same black-helmeted abomination were strung up all over the city. In fact, they were the only things visible aside from the eternal blackness of all the architecture. The pictures all bore a portrait—presumably of a Sith Lord. It was merely his head, and it was covered by a massive, ornate piece of headgear that made him look like some kind demonic phantom. It had two razor sharp horns protruding out of the sides of the helmet. The armor covered most of his head, but his hideous purple chin and devilish mouth were not hidden. There was a kind of wicked smile behind it. Underneath the portrait were written words, he could not read the Sith language, though, so he did not know what they meant.

_I wonder if that is Severus_, he thought to himself.

Aside from the posters, there were also many large screens of a certain kind. They were all inactive, though. Just blank, gray walls.

Caius was almost in awe of the historical significance of the city, but his emotions were overridden by the dark evil present on the planet. Severus made his haven here; this was to be sure. If the Sith Lord was more powerful than Cyaxares, they would have a hard time dealing with him. Fortunately, confronting him was not part of their plan—they merely had to find Revan.

The trio eventually made their way into the streets of the city. The stone-covered alleyways were almost completely barren. The only other beings even visible at all were the occasional Sith troopers. There were a few others, Sith that wore no armor and bore no weapons. They awed Caius. After fighting all these Sith for so long, he had expected every last one of them to wear a hood and wield a gun. It was shocking to see some of them in their normality. They did not even look like enemies to him—they were simply disfigured monsters, but they posed no threat. It was odd, these were his enemies? The enemies of the Republic? Some of them looked harmless.

But all he had to do was remember what the soldiers were capable of, then he remembered how lethal they really were.

Caius let his wandering thoughts get the best of him. He grew more comfortable when he saw how few Sith actually walked the streets. He wondered why. Could it be because they lived under autocratic dictatorship? Perhaps Severus was brutal and disliked, he would force his people into submission and they would not dare walk about outside. Or perhaps there weren't as many Sith as he had thought.

The group was passed by what seemed to be a battalion of Sith soldiers. They marched along the road, their long, automatic weapons resting against their shoulders. Caius held his breath as they passed, while Bastila tried to conceal herself behind Xristos and the Exile. The image was a frightening one—they were trained and prepared. Seeing such order and cohesion among them showed that the Sith were not animalistic, even though their behavior seemed to dictate otherwise. They fought with everything they had, but they were not as out of control as they seemed. But to put so much effort into the fight meant that they truly believed in their cause—and that ruled out his suspicions concerning Severus the dictator.

And then it occurred to him. As the battalion moved past in silence, only the sounds of their boots slamming against the stone road in unison, he realized why there were so few Sith in the city.

They were preparing for the invasion. _All _of them. The astoundingly huge fleet that they had assembled in orbit was not composed of empty ships. They were preparing for war. Not just some border skirmish or terror-inducing sneak attack—like Nihilus and Sion had done. No, they were to engage in full scale, total war.

The Republic would be almost defenseless.

There would be no way the nation would be able to muster the resistance necessary to combat _that_ fleet.

It became clearer to him—their hope would live and die with Revan. He must know the key to defeating them. If he were alive or dead, he was the fulcrum—they needed to find him. But certainly he could not do it alone—he _would _need their help. And if, though Caius shuddered at the thought, he was dead, then they would have to try to pick up where he left off—though time was a precious commodity, and they did not have a lot of it.

The Exile then faded away from his thoughts and focused on the situation at hand. Bastila was in front of him, leading both he and Xristos. He had no idea how she knew where to go, but he trusted her. If Revan was here, she would be able to find him.

Bastila made an inexplicable right turn off of one of the larger roads into a darker back alley. Caius was uneasy as they navigated it. He had a nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. He had learned the gut-instinct habit from Atton, and it had served him well. As of now, he felt that they were in danger.

He tried to ignore his desire to speak to Bastila about it, to say something that would warn her of what he perceived was a threat—but he could not think of anything to say that was not ambiguous and poorly conceived. He had no reason, just feeling.

But his feelings told him they needed to get the hell out of this alley.

He had to chance it. He had to speak up and tell her to go another way—this one was too risky. Even if he had to break their silence and put their lives in danger, it was worth it.

He reached up to her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

She stopped, but did not turn around.

"Bastila?" he asked quietly.

She did not move, but he heard her voice faintly. She said, "Someone is watching us."

The trio spread out, unsure what action to take. Caius could not gauge her because of the hood and mask over her face. He looked around warily, trying to discern who or what could be stalking them, though he feared the worst.

Bastila began walking to the right, away from the alley.

He was about to call after her, but the explosion drowned his voice out.

The building next to them was struck by something. Just above the heads of Caius and Xristos, the wall was suddenly blown to smithereens. Large chunks of debris rained down on top of them, and Caius was thrown to the ground. He tried to cover his head, protect himself, but he still felt the impact of the shards. Fortunately, he was not impaled by anything.

His ears were ringing, and his vision was lost. All he saw was the gray sky and then the dirt, both of them spinning. Dust flew all about and he lost himself. In a moment, the vicious torrent ended. The area went quiet and Caius was relieved to find out he was still alive. He put his hands under his chest and began to push himself up, some debris rolling off of his back.

He froze when he heard the sound of the rifles clicking. Caius looked up warily, and saw that a dozen or so Sith soldiers were standing all around him, their weapons raised and at the ready.

Before he even had a chance to determine if resistance was possible, one of the Sith hit him from behind and threw him onto the ground. He tried to catch himself, but he did not do very well. He did not have his gun, having lost it in the explosion, so he threw out a wave of the Force and launched two of the Sith backwards.

Following the attack, Caius tried to get up again, but there were too many Sith to fight. He got to his knees when his vision went to darkness. A bag was thrust over his head, and he could see no longer.

* * *

Bastila had avoided capture.

The debris that rained down from the explosion had blocked the vision of their Sith attackers, and she used the bought time to sprint away as fast as possible. She could not survive in the open for long—this was for certain. She had to find Revan, somehow, someway.

She then remembered the comm link. She carefully pulled it out of her pocket and ducked behind a large pile of rubbish that she found in back of a large building. She pulled the link close to her and whispered desperately into it.

"Allie…Elliott…" she hissed harshly. "Can you hear me?" Her voice was dripping with panic-induced emotion.

"What is it, Bastila?" she heard Allie ask loudly.

"Quiet," Bastila whispered. "They could hear me." She took a deep breath, still hyperventilating from her narrow escape. She said quickly, "Caius and Xristos have been captured by the Sith. I barely escaped."

"Oh no…" Allie said.

Bastila continued, speaking too fast for her brain to handle, "I have to find Revan. He has to be able to help. I have to. _Allie_, if I don't speak to you again by tomorrow, tell Elliott to get back to Coruscant. Tell them that we found the Sith capital world. Tell Carth. Wait until you get a signal. I have to find—" and then it cut off. After that, only static noise.

* * *

Allie's hands were shaking. She was terrified now. The Sith clearly knew they were here. Had they walked straight into a trap?

"Damn," said Elliott after she explained the situation to him. "Well…I guess we can't do anything but wait."

"Query: What do you mean 'can't do anything'?" HK demanded, "Statement: Just tell me how many meatbags I have to murder to get the master back."

"It's not that easy, HK," said Allie, "we have to stay hidden…"

Elliott then added, "Well, we certainly can't go after them. It's really our only option."

T3 agreed.

* * *

Caius's world consisted of the black wrapping around his head. He could see nothing, only hear and feel. He was hit on the back of the head and then thrown onto a hard, metal surface. He was not sure what was going on, but to use the Force was not advisable. He would be able to, perhaps, fight off many of the Sith, but he had no idea where he was or how many of them were near him. All he knew was that he was being taken somewhere. He could feel that whatever he was in was moving. And fast.

He decided to chance a question. He spoke in the Sith language that he had ripped from the man on Scythia. He asked, "_Where are you taking me?_"

To his surprise, the answer came, it rang through clear as day as he heard only two words: "_Lord Severus._"

The answer hit Caius like a punch to the stomach. _Severus?_ He thought. _The Sith Lord?_ There seemed to be an unlimited supply of them, but here was the head of the opposition. He would probably be interrogated and then killed. That was how Sith operated.

It was then that Caius began formulating a plan. These Sith probably did not know that he was a Jedi—let alone as strong a one as he was. He would use whatever opportunity presented itself to him. When he came face to face with this Sith Lord, he would destroy him. And then he would embrace whatever death they had planned. At least he would take one of them with him. If he couldn't kill the Sith Lord, he would kill as many Sith underlings as possible. He would not go down without a fight.

* * *

He became more intent on destruction as the journey continued, though his plan became less and less detailed. He entertained thoughts of using electricity on the Sith, and then who knows what after that.

Still his world was one of darkness. The covering was over his head. He figured that Xristos and Bastila were getting the same treatment—he hoped that they would fight too, cause as much trouble as possible.

He was unloaded from whatever vehicle had transported them and then he was taken inside somewhere. Or at least, he thought he was as he heard plenty of doors open and close. The place had a dank, musty smell, wherever he was, and for some reason he imagined the place was very dark. He was prodded up several flights of stairs and through some corridors. He bounced off of the walls sometimes. He would have thrown an ill-advised punch at his assailants, but his hands had been cuffed. He would feign innocence now, but he would wrench those things off when the time came.

Who was Severus, anyway? This question danced about his mind as the Exile was led through the dungeon to meet his fate. A Sith Lord, obviously. And Revan made mention of him in that little snippet of dialogue that T3 had played for them. Caius wondered how many Sith there were, and if Severus was indeed the leader. If he had gotten Revan's attention, he must be very high ranking.

Perhaps if he could muster the strength to kill him it would hurt the Sith war effort. Sith generally went into chaos when their leaders were killed. Hopefully the same would happen if he killed their leader. It was a faint hope, though, but the best he had.

All of that, though, was for naught. They finally brought him to a stop. He was thrown down on his knees and he could feel the cold stone ground beneath him. His hands were still behind his back. But he did not want to try to make a move—not yet.

"_You are dismissed_," said a deep voice in the ugly Sith growl.

With that, Caius could only guess, several of the Sith left the area.

The voice drew closer to him. He felt a hand on the back of his head, though he did not know whom it belonged to. Despite the horrid language, Caius thought he somehow was familiar with this voice. It was odd to him—he did not understand it.

It said, "_So, the famed General Lucullus has finally deigned to join me?_"

This left Caius utterly confounded. What did this mean? How did he know his name? More strangely…how did he know he was a General? A Sith Lord knew this? What an odd greeting…

"Have you nothing to say? Still you do not ask where you are or who I am."

Now the voice spoke in…a normal tongue. It was disturbing—he was here, confronting a Sith Lord wasn't he? Why was he speaking…this way? And that voice was so familiar. It was gnawing at his brain that he could not place it.

All Caius could do was stutter a one-word question, "…Severus?"

"Yes," answered the voice. "And then—no."

Caius felt the hand on the back of his head pull up. The harsh fabric of the head covering was ripped off of his head. He squinted, even in the dim light, and looked up to see his counterpart. What he saw shocked him more than he could ever have imagined. There, in front of him, was that familiar face—almost mythical in status now. It had been so long since he had seen it, so much time had passed. And they had spent so much energy and thought in pursuing it, now that he was facing it, it did not seem real. It was too unbelievable to be true. But in retrospect, it was exactly what he should have expected.

"Revan…"


	20. Chapter 19

Author's Notes: Whoohoo! To make amends for ending the last chapter on that horrible cliffhanger, I'll now give you the longest chapter yet! Oh wait...that may not make amends. Oh well! On to the third and final part!

**Part III: Braving the Storm**

**Chapter Nineteen**

"General Lucullus," said Revan. "It has been a while, has it not?"

Caius's mind was numb. "You're…you're a Sith Lord…" he said accusingly. "How…?"

Revan, sitting down in a chair across from him, lightly chuckled to himself. "Of course I am—how else would I infiltrate a rogue society like this? Should I walk up and introduce myself?"

The Exile was still too confused to say anything. He glanced quickly around the room, surveying his surroundings. It was a very dark room, the only light was emanating from some strangely familiar screens in the back of the room. Revan had likely constructed them himself, as with the apparent communications equipment, as it was of a more human design. They cast an eerie glow on the man who had once saved the Republic. His face was familiar to Caius now that he saw it again—though it had been ten years and it was much more worn than last he saw it. Still, the man _looked _charismatic. He had brown hair and eyes, though only a little bit of a glint reflected off of them in the darkness.

Caius stuttered, said, "I don't…understand."

The Exile, still kneeling on the ground, tried to get up but was barred from movement by a disproportionately large Hasan. The alien grabbed him by the shoulder and kept him on the ground. Only then did Caius realize he was still wearing handcuffs—he found that strange, but he was more curious than anything else.

"I am a Sith," said Revan with a sardonic smirk.

"But…but, we heard the tape T3 had. You said Lord Severus knew about you…you _weren't_ him."

"Your grasp of the obvious is inspiring," Revan said impatiently. "Then again, you never were the smartest general under my command—though you were the most successful."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Caius asked.

Revan put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. The former Jedi was wearing all black, but the breastplate he had over his robes consisted of a faded mix of black and crimson. He had a hood, but it was down, hanging over his shoulders. He said condescendingly, "You are correct. I am not Lord Severus. But the Sith do not know that. Neither do they know that I was going to assassinate Ardashir tomorrow."

This was an odd revelation—how could Revan possibly have posed as a Sith?

Revan seemed to anticipate the question. He leaned back and said, "I killed Lord Severus—the real Lord Severus—several months ago, on Scythia. Then I took his place. None know the difference as these abominations have such a puerile obsession with masks and hoods that I am easily able to impersonate the fiend. Only Hsintah here knows who I really am. They don't bother him, either—it is not uncommon for Sith Lords to enslave the alien species and use them as servants, they believe I have done just that."

Caius looked upwards at the grim Hasan who was still grasping his right shoulder. The creature looked very disagreeable. Not like the Hasan he had met on their planet.

Revan spoke again, said, "I never thought I would see you again, Caius. What, exactly, are you doing here? Why are you blundering about so idiotically in the middle of the Sith homeworld? Are you lost?"

The Exile, for some reason, did not understand where the acid behind his words was coming from. He said, "We came…to help you. To help defend the Republic." Caius felt funny saying this. Of course he knew that the biggest reason he wanted to find Revan was to help heal his wound, but he found it would be rather silly of him to say it at this time.

"I see," said Revan, crossing his arms over his breastplate. "So, you decided to come after me—to the middle of the Sith Empire—because of some vague ambition to aid me? Did it not occur to you that I knew what I was doing? That I needed no help?"

"You've been gone for five years," Caius protested, "everyone assumed you were dead."

"That was part of the _plan_, Caius," lamented the Sith Lord. "If I was thought dead, then _no one_ would come after me. Not even Bas—" he stopped himself before finishing the sentence, as though the name literally hurt to say. After all this time, apparently he had not forgotten her.

Caius tried to stand, as the conversation was not exactly going according to plan. He wanted to be able to talk to Revan on equal footing, but as soon as he tried to get up Hsintah forced him downwards again. He glared up at the alien, who looked back at him with clear disgust.

Revan then said, "Let him stand, Hsintah."

The creature backed off and Caius was allowed to take to his feet, although his hands remained cuffed. He glared at the Hasan and then looked at Revan, who was now standing as well, walking slowly around his chair. He dragged his fingers across it before approaching Caius. He said, "I wish you could know…how much you cost me and our so…_precious_ Republic."

"I don't underst—" Caius could not finish his sentence, as he was violently interrupted by Revan's fist. The former Jedi had unleashed a ridiculously strong blow right to Caius's stomach. The Exile shuddered in pain and fell to the ground, landing on his side. He groaned and tried to get to his knees, but could not.

"Notice how I said that I _was _going to kill Ardashir tomorrow," Revan said angrily, "not that I _am_ going to. I suppose such subtle tense was lost on you, but you would be glad to know that you are the reason I am not going to kill him."

Caius slowly got to his knees. He had intended to blow Revan backwards with the Force, or at least in some way fight back, but his antagonist's words were getting the better of him. He waited to hear what the man would say.

"Months of planning and all for naught. I had timed it perfectly—Ardashir _would _have died tomorrow. I hope you realize who he is and what that would have meant. He is the leader of these Sith. The messianic prophet—their savior. His face is plastered all over the city. He was going to bring war to the Republic, but not yet. Tomorrow, during one of the assemblies of the remaining Sith Lords, I was going to kill him." Revan pulled his hood over his face as he spoke. He continued, "But now I cannot. The assembly has been aborted and full-scale war is beginning _now_. A full month before he had been planning it. And do you know _why_ he had this oh-so sudden change of heart?"

Caius did not bother to answer.

"It is because of _you_. Because of your blatantly conspicuous rampaging throughout the unknown regions. But maybe even _that _would have been ignored had you not _killed_ one of the other Sith Lords. But no—you did. And now the whole Sith Empire believes the Republic has struck first. They are going to act, and they are going to do so immediately."

The Exile was stunned, to say the least. Was this true? Should he believe Revan? Would he have any reason to lie? He had answers to none of these questions.

Revan put his mask over his face, and Caius felt his stomach turn. It was the same mask that he had worn while he was a Sith Lord of his own. The same blank, black face with the streaks of red. He spoke from behind it, his voice getting more metallic. He said, "Naturally the other Sith will want to kill you. Since you so obviously wandered into my camp, I'll keep you alive as long as possible. Though, if you live past the week I would be surprised. For now, I will have to incarcerate you in order to maintain the charade." He adjusted his mask and then cracked his neck. He said, "No hard feelings?"

The door behind Caius burst open and a half dozen Sith guards burst through. Revan barked something to them in the Sith language and they approached form behind. Caius tried to resist, he thrust his elbow upwards and smashed one of the soldiers in the face. He used the Force to throw another backwards. Suddenly, however, he was thrown to the ground by an invisible hand. He flipped over and felt a strong kick to his side. He jerked sideways and looked up to see Revan standing over him, still.

"_Let's keep this civil_," said the Sith Lord.

Caius felt an alien fist collide with his jaw and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Bastila was still jittery. She had tried desperately to calm herself, but she could not do it. She was terrified of panicking and blowing her cover, but for some reason none of the Sith she saw had paid any attention to her. She thought for sure she would have seemed out of place, or behaving oddly, but somehow no one noticed—or cared.

Her plan was simple; though she was terrified that in her frazzled state she would foul something up. There was no room for error. She would have to find Revan and tell him that Caius and Xristos had been captured by the Sith. He was her only chance for help. She could feel him through their bond. She wondered if he could feel it too, or perhaps it had been so long that he had forgotten about it.

But she was able to use this complex web of feelings to trace him throughout the city. She ducked through alleyways, hid in cracks and crevices, ran though open areas when she was sure no one was looking. She would follow her gut instinct and trace Revan to wherever he was hiding. She was not sure now what she would say. The thought of even seeing Revan again now, after all this time, was secondary to her fears for her companions. She was terrified they would die. And at the same time she realized that this was what she had wanted to do for years. She had wanted to find Revan again, but she had never anticipated doing it in _this _way.

It certainly was not the romantic reunion that she had anticipated. But she had to ignore those psychological things; she had to find him for so many reasons now that he became an otherworldly savior to her. She needed him to help save Caius and Xristos, she needed him to learn how to defend the Republic from these Sith, and most of all she needed _him._ In the strictly personal sense.

She skidded to halt outside of a strangely obvious structure. It seemed to be right in the middle of the city, and it was visible from almost everywhere. She wondered why Revan would be there. She had expected to find him in some sort of cave. But here he was, she knew for certain. The building was a large, windowless structure with completely blank walls. There were many doors around the outside, though all of them blended in well. She determined to break into the facility immediately. She just…was unsure how.

* * *

Something had gone awry—Ardashir could feel it.

Standing amidst the dreary and darkened hallways of his stupendous palace, the Sith messiah felt the confusion through the Force. There was conflict, familiarity, and hatred. Through the channels of the Force he could feel it.

The Sith Lord looked every bit as terrifying as the countless portraits of him posted all over the city. Unnaturally tall and strong, and covered with black, pointed armor—he presented the image of an immortal demon.

He summoned one of his Sith lackeys.

"_My Lord…" _began the Sith.

"_Gather together an entire regiment—Severus has done something. I will need to deal with him_."

* * *

_The Exile dreamt again—the blow to his head thrusting him back into his violent and unhappy past. For once, he was not reliving the Mandalorian War. Years had passed, connections had been formed, his exile had been suspended. He was back in the Republic, continuing his fruitless search for the Jedi Masters. Fate cheated him, and he got nothing from them—instead he was forced to go to Telos again, to face the Sith in glorious battle._

_He stood on the bridge of the Ravager, the shredded metallic coffin of a man who was not even fully alive. He was a wound, just as Caius was a wound, but his black hole was that of a slavedriver. He was a singularity in the Force, a brutal master who fed on the very breath of his tortured subjects._

_Visas lay on the ground, unmoving. She was sprawled out in a broken contortion; face down on the deck of the ship. There were no wounds on her body—Nihilus had simply bled her of life. He reached out and consumed her soul. She had tried to intercede, tried to prevent her master from committing such an act of atrocity, and it had cost her life._

_If he had been a man once it was surely long ago. Now he was pure monster. He was undefeatable—he could simply consume those who challenged him._

_Except for one._

_Kneeling next to the broken body of Visas was Caius Lucullus, the infamous Exile. He knew she was dead; there was no need to check for a pulse or try to save her. He made sure her face was still covered by her veil and he turned her over so as to be in more respectable position. He stood up and looked at the Sith Lord._

"_You will not survive," he said. He held his blue lightsaber in front of him, warily cautioning Darth Nihilus with it. "Your ship has been mined—your soldiers are fleeing. Your life will finally end."_

_Nihilus groaned a violent cacophony of disturbed noises. The animalistic Sith could not even speak coherently anymore—so far detached was he from life. His personality had become irrelevant. He was not a person or an individual—he was a manifestation of the failure of the Force. He was not a vessel for the dark side, even—he had progressed past that. His humanity was lost—he existed only as an abstract indication of the world to come. A world with no Force, no sovereignty, no morality, no equal dignity of souls. He was the end of existence._

_A flurry of lightning exploded from the debased creature. Caius held his weapon out, bisecting his body. The lighting did not even impact. It split through the air, cracking and hissing and flying all around him as though a funnel were diverting it around his body. The blue light flickered on his face and the energy bounced off of his aura and ripped into the walls and ground around him._

_The torrent of electricity stopped, and the Exile stood still, his weapon elevated. "That will not work," he said. "I am like you—I do not exist in the Force. And you can't kill what doesn't exist."_

_Nihilus screeched a blackened curse at the Exile and unsheathed his red lightsaber. The large Sith Lord did not waste any movement—he flew at the Exile and launched his attack._

_Caius parried a blow, took a step backwards. Two more blocked hits and a counterstroke found them at an impasse._

_The Exile took a step back and then poked his weapon towards the Sith, hoping to elicit a response. The Sith Lord did not bite, just matched Caius step for step. The duel devolved into an actionless stare down, each man trying to gauge the movements and eccentricities of the other._

_The fight continued on this way for a length of time neither of them could determine. Caius held the defense the whole time, countering the scattered and sparse attacks of Nihilus. He would sometimes counter, but the Sith would effortlessly strike them down._

_It took Caius a long time to get back into the rhythm while facing a lightsaber-wielding foe. He had not faced one since he had trained against several of his friends during the Mandalorian Wars, and that was nothing compared to this high-risk situation. The last duel he could recall had been a simple exercise against his friend Marcus, only a week before the latter's death. He meant no disrespect to his deceased friend's skills, but Nihilus was superior in almost every way. Caius would have been overwhelmed by the situation had he not had the ace up his sleeve—his wound. He knew Nihilus could not touch him. And he could exploit this._

_A certain rage began to build within the Exile the more he thought of Nihilus. He was a complete enigma, totally indecipherable to the Exile's mind. It was as if he had always been, he never had a beginning. He was the great devilish presence responsible for all the evil in the universe since the dawn of time. Up to and including the deaths of all of his friends. His emotions kicked into overdrive and he suddenly went on the offensive._

_He leapt at Nihilus, driving the shocked Sith Lord backwards. His defenses reeling, Caius determined to strike, but try as he may, he could not penetrate. His saber skimmed off of the shoulder of Nihilus, eliciting a ferocious roar from the Sith Lord. Sparks flew off his arm as he countered. His red lightsaber flared through the air and nearly singed Caius's eyebrows. A backwards drive and once again they were even, having gotten nowhere._

_Neither had the advantage in terms of personal combat, but Caius knew that time was on his side. The battle was going in the Republic's favor, and soon Nihilus would have to kill him or they would both perish._

_His calculations were correct, as Nihilus then made a mistake. It was not a physical one, however. He made a mistake through the Force. Despite the Exile's insistence that he was immune to Nihilus's Force consumption, the Sith Lord decided to chance it anyway. He reached out through the living connection and tried to consume the Exile's soul, but the result was not what he had hoped for._

_There was a tremendous backfire. The Sith Lord, full of power, was suddenly depressed like a bloated balloon would be on the verge collapse. His strength vacated his body, fleeing through the bond to the Exile. His life was being siphoned out of him in a bizarrely ironic reversal of what he had spent years honing and exploiting. There was nothing he could do to halt the process. _

_Caius clenched his fists and yelled, his lightsaber even seeming to flicker and fluctuate in power due to the horrendous siphoning bond that was sucking the very existence out of Nihilus's being. Pain rolled off of the Exile as he weathered the storm, absorbing the violent and twisted nature of the Sith Lord. Bolts of energy and electricity floated around his body, red discharges signifying a literal physical consumption of Nihilus's soul._

_In an instant it was over. The funnel closed and Nihilus was left as a void. The Sith Lord stumbled backwards and nearly fell down, slumping to his knees and howling in agony. Caius was almost possessed by the energy that he had allowed to filter through him. His vision went frazzled and red, a wave of fury washing over him. He cried out, yelling in gibberish, and charged the weakened husk in front him. His saber was raised over his head as he ran._

_Nihilus, in a pitiful attempt to save himself, held up his lightsaber. He had only a fraction of his strength left, and Caius put all his power behind two vicious swipes at the blade. He succeeded in batting the weapon out of Nihilus's frail hand, vaulting it far away and rendering it irrelevant. He followed through with a violent vertical swipe that Nihilus barely averted by throwing his body sideways. Caius spun around and brought his weapon up again, but this time Nihilus was not so fortunate. The Exile's weapon connected with the Sith Lord right above his elbow, severing his left arm from his body. The Sith howled, but Caius did not relent. He immediately followed this blow with a strike to the Sith's chest—running his blue blade straight through the Sith Lord._

_There was almost no noise anymore. Nihilus's shrieking was replaced by a wounded coughing, a reminder of the Sith's past humanity. He was dying—choking away his life. Caius felt the aura around the Sith fluctuate, feeling it get cast into a whirling maelstrom of confused wickedness and desperate redemption. The last observation confused the Exile. What was this sensation? Was it the last evidence of the Sith Lord's previous humanity?_

_He deactivated his lightsaber and pulled his hilt out of the Sith's body. He felt Nihilus's life expire with the act. Somehow, through some kind of poetic justice, the Sith Lord remained standing, even in death. But he was surely dead; there was no contesting the fact. A curiosity piqued within Caius as he stared at the dead body, beholding the disturbed, skull-like mask on Nihilus's head._

_Should I take off the mask? Caius thought to himself._

_Hesitantly, he extended his arm towards the mask. He moved slowly, almost afraid that Nihilus would spring back to life. He inched closer until his middle finger could almost touch the chin of the mask. Just as he was about to touch it, however, a flood of second thoughts surged within his mind and he instantly pulled back his hand._

_No, he thought. Better to leave the identity unknown._

_Nihilus was dead. An impersonal evil and threat to all life. His death could not be more complete. Knowledge would not help Caius in the long run. He turned around and gazed at Visas again. She would have liked to know who Nihilus was, but Caius did not want to. He did not need to._

_He did not look back. He began moving slowly, step by step, away from the deceased Sith. If he had bothered to turn around he would have seen the creature's body begin to dissolve and fall apart, but he did not. His pace quickened until he was sprinting, hurrying to get off of the Ravager forever._

_Nihilus's mask fell into a pile of debris, and then it too dissolved as a metal in acid. Never again to be seen._

_

* * *

_

Caius awoke. He hastily recalled the dream and wondered why. Slowly the memory came back to him, and he determined that his confrontation with Revan had brought out one of the most extreme and tense moments in his past. Another conflict with another Sith Lord, no less.

He found himself in a dark, dingy cell. It was not nearly as accommodating as the force cages he was accustomed to. It was an old-fashioned prison cell, the kind one would find in a dungeon underneath a castle. He tried to move and discovered that he was chained to the wall. He could hardly see, but slowly his eyes accustomed to the light. He looked ahead to see that there was but one guard outside of his prison, and he seemed very inhospitable. But he remained distant, several yards away.

He heard a voice from the cell next to him. There were a few holes pierced into the stonewall, and it allowed the sound to funnel through it to him. With a whisper, the guard would not be able to hear it. Even so, he certainly would not understand it.

"You all right, Caius?" the voice asked, concerned. It was Xristos.

"I…don't know," he answered. "I don't remember how I got here."

"You were knocked out when they brought you in," stated the old man. "I wonder why they didn't just kill us. If they're Sith…" he started musing to himself. "So much for finding Revan."

"I found him," said Caius acidly. Xristos seemed to swallow his breath at the statement, but said nothing. The Exile continued, "He is the one responsible for this."

"What…?" asked the old man. "What are you talking about?"

"Lord Severus," Caius explained, "_is _Revan. He just explained the whole situation to me. Sounds like we're just part of his plan."

"I don't…understand," said the old man.

"He's been posing as the Sith Lord. He told me that we ruined his plans and now the Sith are going to invade the Republic. He also said he's going to turn us over to the true Sith Lord in order to maintain his charade. As prisoners we're to be executed."

"Well…that is…unexpected."

"What the hell are we going to do?" Caius lamented.

"It doesn't look like we're in much of a position to do anything."

Caius grumbled to himself. Revan was always like this. He had always had a plan, some sort of master scheme that he kept to himself because he was so ostensibly brilliant. Sometimes, and the Republic media never made mention of this during the Mandalorian Wars, the plans would backfire. Tremendously.

Dxun was one of those instances. As well as Malachor V. Caius had played a large role in both of those battles, so his views of Revan were somewhat skewed. The man _was _a good tactician. They were not incorrect when they praised his ingenuity and power…for some of the battles. But he was not always consistent—though he thought he was. His fatal flaw had been arrogance. If he had been such a strategic genius as the newsreels so frequently portrayed him, the Jedi would not have captured him. He would not have allowed Dxun to get so out of hand. And Malachor would not have become the death trap that it did.

Generally, his tactics consisted of the belief that trying to defend everything meant defending nothing. This was a tried and true maxim, but it was hardly groundbreaking. Revan only took it to a new level. He had a sort of persistent intensity that no one previous could match. When it looked like all was lost, he would adhere firmly to his strategy. His subordinates would beg him to deviate, but he would not. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. But in the end the death toll was always extreme. Regardless of how the soldiers felt about it, the Republic lauded him for getting the job done. He did, after all, win the war that no one else could. He had the strength to do what the other leaders could not, but he lost his humanity to it.

That was the secret to his success. In the decades of peace before the war, the Republic had grown complacent militarily. That, and they had a remarkable string of bad luck where all the most inept people had somehow gained high military rankings. When Revan took over he refused to buckle down—to anyone. Quite simply, he was the only one with the balls to win the war.

Revan had always played all the angles, and it appeared to Caius that this time one of the steps in his plan involved him getting killed. The Exile then had a revelation about Revan and his fall to the Dark Side. Never mind what Kreia had said about sacrificing himself, as with most everything else the old woman said, that was likely untrue.

No, it was opposition that caused Revan's "fall". His arrogant confidence in his military abilities led him to believe that his strategies were the most legitimate. An ongoing conflict within the Republic military during the Mandalorian Wars had been the one between him and the Fleet Admiral and the rest of the naval hierarchy. The only conceivable way for Revan's will, his strategies and plans, to be enacted without contest was to change the fundamental structure of the society.

He would change the Republic into the Sith.

With protocol, order, and defiance out of his way, Revan would be free to do as he willed. Maybe he really did believe he was doing the right thing, maybe he no longer cared. But in the end pride did, indeed, lead to his fall. And that was what allowed the Jedi to reprogram his mind.

It all made sense to the Exile now. And now that Revan was more or less uncontested as another Sith Lord, he would be able to do as he willed. The Exile hoped that this did not mean he had once more fallen to the Dark Side…

Caius felt himself jump as he noticed the enigmatic figure was standing in the doorway to the prison cells. The Dark Lord Revan was standing there alone, having dismissed the single guard so he could speak to his prisoners in private. He strode up to the cells solemnly and then removed his mask in front of Caius's barred cell door.

Xristos could see and said, "Well, if it isn't Revan. I can't say I envisioned meeting you under these circumstances. Well…maybe six or seven years ago, but not now."

Revan said to him, "Silence, old man. I have nothing to say to you."

Caius asked pointedly, "Have you fallen to the Dark Side again?"

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I _mean_…why are you doing this?"

"I already explained this to you," Revan said casually. "It is the most logical plan. I knew you would come snooping around this planet, so I took the liberty of capturing you before you so ingloriously shredded my cover. I must protect my identity at all costs. Of course, now that I have incarcerated you, the Lord Ardashir would probably like to know why I have two humans locked up. There was no way to prevent him from learning. And that's why I am keeping you here. He won't come see you himself, but he will send an envoy to come examine, interrogate, and then kill you."

"I'm grateful for all your help," Caius said sarcastically.

"I am sorry," said Revan. "Truly, I am. But you must have seen this as a natural consequence of your actions. Who goes stumbling blindly through the Sith Empire?"

"We were looking for you," answered Caius.

"And I already explained that I did not _want _to be found. I voice locked the _Ebon Hawk_'s navicomputer for a reason. If I wanted you to follow me I would have built a sign." He took a deep breath and then continued, "Still. You showed remarkable ingenuity getting this far. It is a pity that the Sith will kill you. I would have appreciated the help under different circumstances."

"You bastard," Caius said, "you're letting us die and you're not going to raise a finger to stop it."

"What would you have me do? This situation is not something for which I can be blamed."

"_You _threw us in prison!"

"You forced my hand," answered the Sith Lord serenely. "Now," he said, changing topics, "I did not come here to argue flawed logic with you."

"And what did you come here for?" asked Caius.

"Merely to explain the situation."

"You don't have to do this," Caius said, though his exhortation was becoming more and more like pleading as the conversation went on.

"I have already apologized, but I do have to do it," he answered. "I cannot be compromised. I must be allowed to continue with my plan."

"You already said that your assassination plan was destroyed. You said that the invasion is happening now!"

Revan smiled a slight, eerie smile. It was almost unnoticeable. He then said, "Yes, it is. Fortunately, through years of work I've managed to convince Ardashir that the Republic's military heart is on Coruscant. He believes the planet to be a fortress, and a quick strike will knock out any possibility for counterattack. Fortunately, such a foolish attack would leave the Republic navy virtually unscathed, and then a counterattack would not only be possible, but it would also be a killing stroke."

Caius was shocked to hear this…but then he knew. Revan was still appealing to his give and take military logic. "But," he protested, "the whole planet would be destroyed. The…Senate and Jedi Temple would be totally obliterated."

Revan thought for a moment, then said, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It _is,_" answered Caius, "and you are nothing more than the same Sith you've been before."

"I am not!" Revan shouted, much louder than anything else he had said thus far. He clenched his fists, and Caius could see fire in his eyes. He thought that the Sith Lord was going to throw lightning at him and kill him right then, but his hand was stayed. Instead, Revan wheeled around to face a Sith soldier that had burst into the room and shouted something.

Revan's already pale face went pearl white. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip before he shouted in the Sith language, "_Do not __**ever **__interrupt me!_"

The Sith soldier looked utterly appalled at what he was seeing. Revan's mask was not on his face, and the Sith saw nothing but a human. A human masquerading as a Sith Lord. His confusion and shock would cost him dearly. Revan caught the stunned creature by the right elbow and smashed the joint backwards. It bent unnaturally, making a sickening crack in the process. Before the Sith could scream Revan had his hand around the creature's mouth. He flung him through the air, over his shoulder, and onto the ground. The body slammed into the ground, unmoving. Caius saw a knife was wedged into its back. The move had been so seamless that the Exile had not even see Revan go for the weapon or plant it in the alien's body.

Revan blew out his mouth angrily and snapped his mask over his face. He used the Force to summon the knife to his hand and then he launched the dead body across the room. He pivoted and turned to Caius, clearly perturbed. Behind him, however, was another shadowy figure. This one was the Hasan, the one who had socked Caius earlier. The alien strode up to Revan and spoke something in his ear. Revan stood very still while listening, as though he were caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

The Hasan leaned away from Revan's ear and the former Jedi turned slowly away from him and towards Caius. He said with an almost violent hiss, "You didn't tell me that _she _was here…"

Caius was unsure what to say, but when he looked back up, he noticed that Revan was long gone.

"This isn't good," he said.

"No kidding," came the old man's response.

* * *

Bastila sat still in what appeared to be the main communications and control room of the fortress she had found. She was unsure of what was going on, that much was certain.

She had been provided with a chair behind a small, wooden table in the dimly lit room. It seemed that most of the light in the place emanated from the various screens and other devices around. She sat quietly in the dark chamber and tried to think of what to do, and contemplate what had just happened to her.

Right outside of this large structure, the one of which she was certain Revan was inside, she had been captured. But not by a Sith. She was not sure what he was. He was some kind of leathery skinned green creature, very unlike the Sith. She was so shocked to see him that she was caught off guard. He had held a gun to her, but she could have easily dispatched him. However, seeing clearly that he was not a Sith, she had allowed him to bring her inside as that was the best possible way to get into the building. She could feel Revan's aura was close, and she believed that this creature would be the one to get her closer.

She did not know that he was Revan's right hand man. Or that Caius and Xristos had been imprisoned in the very same building.

She only sat in confused bewilderment as to her surroundings, and about what to do concerning her kidnapped companions. She only needed to find Revan, and she was sure that he was on his way.

Still, that could not have prepared her for when he walked in.

Six years time and all the training in the world could not have prepared her. The door burst open and then slammed shut. There was a hunched figure in a dark cloak, but he quickly slid the hood off of his head and removed his mask before she could really see it. He strode closer, the weak light in the room reflecting off of his face, and he looked her in the eye.

Bastila was stunned. She was not sure what to do, she simply sat and stared. Six years of trying to figure out what he meant, why he left, and where he was. Now all the answers were before her and she almost did not want to know what they were. She was simply startled by his presence, thrown into an unintentionally awkward silence in which both of them just stared at each other. It was so odd—the friction was palpable. Even without words, the air hummed around them. She could only stare and think to herself, _is this it? This is the moment I've been waiting for? _Only Revan was able to eventually break the quiet.

He said weakly, "Hello, Bastila."

She did not know what to say.

Hsintah moved in between both of them and stood at an adjacent angle to the small table. He set down Bastila's small comm link, a pistol, and some other trinkets down on top of it. He said, "This is all she had on her. The comm link is the same as the other one."

"Thank you, Hsintah," Revan said. "You may leave."

The Hasan obliged and left the two of them alone.

"It's been a long time," Revan began.

Bastila, despite rehearsing this scenario in her head thousands of times before the occasion, did not know where to begin. But she found that she was somewhat…angry, deep down. She found this disconcerting, as she was not supposed to feel anger. But she did. She asked accusingly, "Why did you leave?"

"Dispensing with the pleasantries already?" he returned smoothly.

"I would like to know why you did not tell me you were leaving," she stated.

"You came all this way just to ask that?" Revan blew out from his mouth and plopped down heavily in the chair opposite his former lover. He leaned forward and put his hands on the table, lacing his fingers and then slowly preparing to speak. He said, "Because I wanted to avoid this conversation if at all possible."

"Avoid the conversation?"

"I know you would not understand."

"You're right—I don't."

"Come on, Bastila. I couldn't tell you, you would have come with me—and this is, obviously, something I must do alone. Or at least…I thought that was obvious."

"You should have told me. If you thought it was so obvious, I would have understood."

"Would you have? You were always so stubborn."

"You are just content to discard me from your life? After everything that had happened?"

"I never…" Revan actually seemed at a loss for words. Given his natural speaking ability and reputation for smooth talking, this was a strange occurrence. He gulped and then continued, said, "I never…stopped loving you, Bastila."

"But…" Bastila had a retort to this, she knew the words, but she could not say them. Instead she became choked up. She leaned forward. She wanted to hide her face from him. She did not feel like she was crying, but she could not tell for sure. Her eyes stung, and she looked down and away. This moment was too hard, and too painful to be worth going through, even for him.

Revan continued, "But sometimes…Bastila," he savored the pronunciation of her name, "we have to give up the things we love to do the right thing."

Bastila looked up at him and saw a face more stricken with grief than she had ever known. Nothing she had seen in her young life was more hopeless, downtrodden, or depressed than Revan's face was at that moment. It was as though his very will to live had been siphoned out of him slowly.

"To do…the right thing?" she said, her voice quivering.

Revan sighed and stood up. He turned away from her and said, "The Republic must be preserved, no matter what the cost. That is…what makes this so difficult."

Before she could ask what he meant, Bastila suddenly felt two tremendously strong hands grab her from behind. In a brief glance backwards, she saw that Hsintah had her within his grip. He clenched her arms and forced her hands into some kind of bind. She shot out from the chair violently and tried to resist. As she flew outwards, she kicked the bottom of the table and caused her comm link to jettison into the air. Without the use of her hands, she reached out with the Force and called on it to activate the emergency transponder on the device. It was almost a reflex—she was not sure this would accomplish anything, but she had to do it. There was a subtle click and then she could not see the link anymore. She was thrown to the ground, but before she could use the Force to attack her unseen assailant, she saw Revan's sorrowful face again. She was rendered immobile by it.

Was this what it had come down to? Six years of yearning and searching for answers, six years for her journey, and it would end like this? The very man she had given herself to willingly was betraying her? She had spurned the code of the Jedi and given up everything for him…and now he was betraying her. She would have been angry, but instead she was heartbroken. It could not be happening to her, not her story, not the fairy tale love story that she had lived up until this point.

But it was happening. Real life was not so pleasant as fiction.

Revan's dismal expression went even whiter. He allowed one more glance at the woman on the ground, and said quietly, "I'm sorry, my love." And then he turned away.

Bastila's vision went to black as her head was covered.

* * *

Allie was sitting in the medical room with Dustil, trying to ask him what they should do. He was not really in a position to adequately judge, but she was asking him anyway. He was still sickly, and he would slump over when he tried to sit up for too long. Walking was, for all intents and purposes, out of the question. Elliott, HK, and T3 were all standing behind her.

In her hands, she held the small comm link that had recently given off a burst of noise meant only for emergencies. Bastila had said that they should leave Malacandra if this happened, but she was unsure.

"Dustil," she said, "I don't know what to do."

He groaned slightly and wheezed before speaking. He licked his lips, a reflex due to his now perpetually dry mouth, and then said quietly, "What was it Bastila said?"

"She told us to leave and warn the Republic if she was captured."

"That won't…do any good," Dustil said. "If that were enough, we would have done that without landing on this planet. We need to find Revan…Bastila said she knew where he was, right?"

"Yes."

"Then we should try to follow, or else the Republic is doomed anyway."

Elliott then interrupted, said, "How is it we're supposed to find them? We can't just look around blindly."

"Statement: I am fully capable of tracking the Jedi Bastila's location and that of my former master," HK informed them.

The three people looked at each other uneasily before saying anything.

"Is that…wise?" Allie asked everyone.

"Answer: The Sith have many droids, we already know this. Revan designed me using the archaic Sith schematics on Malachor V and the engineering of the Star Forge. In truth, I am more closely related to these droids than the ones of the Republic."

Allie was not very convinced, she said, "You mean…you want us to just follow you through the streets looking for Bastila and Revan?"

"Answer: Yes, and if you do not then I will. My master's protection demands action regardless of your decisions."

Elliott then chimed in, he said, "If the droid is going he'll blow our cover anyway. Someone should go with him, unless we can stop him."

"Statement: Not a chance, meatbag."

HK then moved to leave. He shoved Elliott out of the way as he departed. The pilot was upset at the assassin droid's antics, but there was not much he could do about it.

"I think you should follow him," Dustil advised.

"But what if we don't come back?" Allie asked. "What will happen to you?"

Dustil winced as he tried to lean forward, and resigned to holding still against the wall. He answered, "T3 and I can handle ourselves."

Allie looked at him closely and saw the defiance within him—there was no way he would let them leave without trying.

Elliott said, "Are you kidding me? We're really just going to wander out there and follow that psychotic droid? _That's _our plan?"

Allie shrugged, said, "I guess…we don't have an option."

Elliott sighed, said, "I can't believe I'm doing this. This is not what I signed up for." Another breath and then he actually provided useful information. He said, "We can use the extra Sith uniforms. You're tall enough to blend, right Allie?"

At five feet and ten inches, Allie would have an easier time blending in than Bastila did, but it would still be difficult. Elliott was over six feet so he would have no issues.

"Okay," Allie said reservedly, "we'll go with HK." She stood up and cast another glance at the young Jedi, said, "Goodbye, Dustil."

"Good luck," he said. "May the Force be with you."

Allie and Elliott found HK at the foot of the loading ramp and ordered him to wait and then guide them. He was unhappy, but compliant. Meanwhile, they both hurried back inside to grab their things. They each took a Sith uniform and their blasters.

"Should we take their lightsabers?" Allie asked.

Elliott shrugged, his face much whiter than it had been previously, and he seemed to be shaking slightly.

Allie grabbed Caius's lightsaber and Xristos's. They hurried outside, donned their hoods and covered their faces, and then ordered HK to guide them. They only made it a few yards before Elliott stopped them. Allie turned to look at him as he removed his hood—his face was pale white and he seemed much more erratic than she had ever seen him before.

He weakly stuttered, "I can't do this. I'm not doing this—I can't go."

Allie lunged towards him and grabbed him by the arm, said, "Yes you are! You have to help me! I can't do this by myself!"

He ripped her hand off his arm and took two cautious steps backwards towards the _Ebon Hawk_. "I can't," he said, the words stumbling out of his mouth, "I just…I can't…I didn't sign up for this."

Allie slowly let her arm fall to her side. She watched helplessly as Elliott nervously looked two different ways, paused for a moment, walked in a circle, and then started hobbling back to the _Ebon Hawk_.

He went several yards before Allie yelled at him, "_You can't do this!_" Her normally pleasant voice was raised well beyond its normal pitch, and her words shook throughout the chasm of a canyon, echoing several times.

As her echoes slowly withered, Elliott turned around slightly, looked askance at her and said, "You're right…I can't."

And with that he continued up the slight incline towards the _Hawk_.

* * *

Revan was rendered nearly immobile by the day's events. He was normally so serene, so sure of what he was doing, but now he was questioning himself in ways he had not since the Mandalorian Wars. Could he really give up Bastila like this? Should he? He did not know. He sat, incapacitated, in the chair that Bastila had occupied when she was in the room. He had not gotten to explain anything to her, they had only had a brief discourse about the nature of his love for her. And then he had locked her up…how foolish he was being. Of course she would never allow him near her again…if she lived past tomorrow.

His head was buried in his hands, and Hsintah found the image unsettling. He repeatedly tried to urge his master back into action, but the man had been completely disarmed. Disarmed, not through weapons or strategy, but because of his feelings for a woman.

"I can't do this, Hsintah," he said, "I can't let her die like this."

"You would let the others die," answered the Hasan.

"I don't care about them!" he retorted. "They are nothing."

"You gave your justification, my lord. Your Republic must be saved, you cannot allow yourself to be compromised. Once the attack is underway, you can stab Ardashir in the back and then the Republic will counterattack and destroy the invasion force."

"I know what my plan is!" Revan responded angrily, slamming his fist on the table in front of him. "But…this cost!"

"There is no other way, my lord."

Revan looked up at the grim figure before him. For the first time since he had met the alien on Scythia he doubted his motives. Of course _he _wanted Revan to continue with his plan. He cared nothing for Bastila. But he did not understand, he did not know what Revan was going through.

But even then it may be too late. He had already imprisoned Bastila…she would likely never forgive him. Even if he tried to rectify the error.

And if he did try to save her, he _would _compromise himself and he would have to flee. And then not only would Bastila probably spurn him, he would also lose to Ardashir. Logically, he would have to continue with his current scheme.

Logic—that's what it had always come down to. Logic triumphed over emotion, always. That was how he had won the Mandalorian Wars. But never had it been so…personal. He had never experienced this kind of moral dilemma before.

For the first time, Revan was willing to admit that he did not know what to do.

* * *

"You know," Xristos said, refusing to be quiet and let Caius sulk, "I talked to Allie about you earlier today."

"Oh hell, that's almost the last thing I want to think about now," answered the Exile from the darkness of his cell.

"Almost the last thing?"

"Aside from our impending deaths," Caius said flatly.

"Which is why I brought it up," the old man informed him. "Anything else is welcome in my book."

Caius sighed and scooted across his cell. Or at least, he scooted as far as his chains would allow—which was not very. He said, "I'd prefer to talk sports or something. It doesn't matter if you bring up Allie because we're dead anyway."

"But that doesn't mean you should go to your grave acting this way."

The Exile was not exactly thrilled with the conversation, he said, "Do you have to philosophize about everything? I'll bet the last thing you think of before your death is the nature of morality."

"Not necessarily," said Xristos, "I might think about the nature of love. Bastila and I had a good discussion about it on that dead planet—it's too bad you weren't there, you might have learned something."

"I've learned enough about love," Caius informed him. He would have crossed his arms if he could. He looked out of the dim cage to see the lone Sith guard sitting at the other end of the room. He was quite far away, but he did not seem to be perturbed at their speaking. Perhaps he knew there was no way they could break out—he would have no need to be concerned even if they were shouting death threats at him.

"I doubt that," Xristos challenged him.

"Look," said the Exile, growing more and more irritable, which was amazing given the circumstances, "I'll tell you the same thing I told Allie: I do not want to love anyone. I don't want to get involved with any woman that way—not one, no matter how she feels. I don't want to deal with it or the stupid hardships it brings with it."

"So it's about security," stated Xristos. It was not a question at all.

"If it makes you feel better, yes—it's security. I don't want to deal with any of it."

"You know," began the old man, and Caius knew that he was going into philosophy mode, "a wiser man than I once had something to say on that. He said to love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and probably be broken."

Caius supposed this was true, he said, "And that is why I don't want to deal with it. Why put myself through that?"

"Well, if you want to make sure of keeping it intact, which you are doing quite well, you must give your heart to no one. Wrap it carefully with any hobby or small luxury or jade it with cynicism and sarcasm; avoid all entanglements, lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. Is that what you want? Because it's what you are doing."

The old man's disembodied voice seemed to be assaulting Caius from every direction. He did not want to think about it. He stuttered, "I…I don't want—" but he couldn't finish.

"You seem to think your heart will be safe there, and you're right. In that casket," continued the old man, "safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. Do you understand what I'm saying? That's the kind of tortured individual you can and will become by taking that view on love."

Caius didn't say anything, and the disembodied voice that was completely assaulting him was not finished.

It said, "The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of complete unity from the Force—heaven—where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is a Pallian kind of place of eternal torment—hell, if you will."

The words were giving Caius a hard time. Within the dark prison he could hardly see, but he could somehow feel the musings of the old man swimming around him, as though the words were living creatures seeking to devour him from the inside. It was working. He lamented, "Why are you telling me this? We're going to die soon, why should I even care at this point?"

Xristos gave off a little laugh. It was odd, certainly not a happy laugh, but a sort of admonishing chuckle, like Caius was just too thick to understand what he was saying. He stated, "Because, dear Exile, I would not want you to spend the last hours of your life in hell. That would too tragic to be considered even ironic."

"But even if you're right, even if you are absolutely, one hundred percent correct, it is still too late. We're dead, Bastila is probably captured too, and the rest of our crew is probably a million light years away from here by now. It's hopeless."

"It may be hopeless, but it's never too late."

"It is."

Xristos's voice got louder. Caius was rattled by his words, as they were almost a shout. He rebuked him harshly. "Do you not understand even now?" he asked rhetorically. "What of Allie? Maybe she would have been good for you, maybe not, but the point is—you can't just shut yourself off from your feelings and emotions in that way. _That _is what the Jedi do, and _that _is why you'll always be one of them. Do you fancy being a statuesque clone of theirs for all eternity? Living in a world isolated from all joy, hope, and passion—yes, passion! It is not such an enemy to be feared as they would have you believe. Passionless life gets you this: wasting away in a dungeon and hating everyone because of it."

"What do you _want _me to say?" Caius pleaded, "that I fucked up? _Fine_, I _said_ it! You're right—I'm wrong. But this doesn't mean _anything _now. What does it get me?"

"It's fine for you to say it, but it's only important that you _mean _it. Words without thoughts never to heaven go."

"Maybe I do love Allie, but this philosophical arguing is pointless."

"It isn't pointless at all, in fact, there's nothing more important that we should be doing right now. You're going to die within a day, do you want to get to that point with such deluded self-induced illusions about life? Don't _lie _to yourself to be happy, in the end you'll be far more miserable. Embrace whatever truth you know, and appreciate it now while you have a chance. So if you do love Allie, then what do you get now?"

Caius sighed. He was getting nowhere, but maybe the old man was right. What was the saying? _Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all_. "I suppose…the experience."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Xristos said. "You saw a glimmer, a flicker of something that every being in this galaxy is searching for. You came closer than most. You and Allie were able to faintly gaze upon something that makes all of us human. And now you can go to your death without regrets, because you didn't try to cage it up and ignore it."

"But I did…up until now," answered the Exile.

"And that's why I brought it up."

"Old man, you never do stop thinking about love, do you?"

"No—not since the Jedi told me it was of the dark side. I've spent the last forty years trying to prove them wrong."

"You have," Caius informed him. "I see…they are wrong."

There was a long pause at the other end. Caius could not see the old man, but he could almost feel him thinking. The Exile expected some kind of long-winded dissertation on why the Jedi were wrong, but instead he got a simple, heartfelt response.

"Thank you," said Xristos, "you don't know how glad it makes me to hear that."

Caius couldn't suppress a smile. Despite the grim circumstances, he was somehow…content. "Well then," he said, "here's to having loved and lost. Let's ask the guard for a drink to toast to."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

As the two imprisoned Jedi were discussing her, Allie, never the worse for wear, was leading the rescue "team" to find them, a team that consisted of her and only her. Although the psychotic assassin droid claimed to be helping. Sure, Caius had aggravated her, but that did not mean she was willing to sacrifice him, Xritsos, and Bastila to whatever sinister entity had captured them. She did not want to think of her feelings for him, though. For some reason she was attracted to him, though she couldn't, or perhaps wouldn't, call it love at all. Perhaps…infatuation. Some kind of attraction. But she shoved it from her mind. She would try her best to find them, and Elliott would help her. She followed HK, but despite his lead, she seemed to be in charge of the mission.

The droid was able to track the three Jedi quite easily with his various instruments, escorting them quickly through the disturbingly derelict Sith city. It was so empty it was disconcerting. Although Allie found the notion extremely distressing, but she was glad the place was so empty for it allowed them to sneak through it rather easily.

She tried her best to blend, though very few—if any—Sith actually laid eyes on them. There were other droids around, but they were such a strangely mixed group of machines that HK did not stick out at all. In fact, there were several droids ambling about that seemed to be very similar to him. It was shocking in that they saw almost more droids than Sith in the city.

When they were sufficiently isolated, Allie dared to ask, "Why is no one here?"

"Answer: It is statistically the most likely that the Sith are preparing for a massive invasion, one that requires the services of the majority of the population. Given the apparent martial law maintained in this environment, those not part of the war force are, presumably, bound by law to stay inside or out of the way."

Allie thought about how unfortunate it would be to live in such a society.

"Suggestion: We should stay quiet."

They continued through the vacant stone streets and through the towering black structures. The buildings were impressive in their odd architecture, very different from that of Republic worlds. Allie thought it looked similar to the large watchpost that was constructed inside the main city on Scythia. They also seemed to bear a definite resemblance to the ruins on Samarkand. What was the most unsettling were the large pictures hung on most of the empty walls—Allie had no idea what they were, but she most certainly did not like them.

They proceeded through the empty city until HK bid her to stop. There was a rather large, looming structure in front of them. It was very black and very tall. It looked like some kind of fortress, sacrificing style for function. It seemed impenetrable.

"We're supposed to break in there to get them out?" Allie gulped

"Order: I said 'quiet', I will devise a plan."

"Don't order me," Allie retorted, "how about you do what I tell you?"

The droid ignored her and said, "Statement: I have a plan." He readied his weapon.

* * *

Revan could not handle it any longer. He was still wallowing in his state of emotionally disturbed hyper-confusion, and he was about to burst. His mind was running over all of his options, what could he do?

Hsintah maintained that he was doing the right thing, but then why didn't it feel like it? He thought some more, realized that his time was running short and decided that he had to do something. He was not in the right.

He slammed his fist on the table in a fit of rage, punctuating his decision. His tired, red eyes dilated and he looked at Hsintah, who was standing a few feet away and watching his master go through torment. Revan said, "I can't do this. I'm getting her out of here."

"You cannot do that, my lord. You will compromise yourself and the Sith invasion. If you leave, they may stay the attack as a result of dissent within the ranks. Not to mention all of your work will be undone when they undoubtedly attack this complex."

"I no longer care!" Revan shouted, standing up. He rose with such force that he slammed his thigh into the table and his chair launched backwards. "I can't do this, I can't do this! Not to her!"

"You are going against everything you ever believed and taught me," the calm, emotionless alien stated with startling serenity. "For five years you told me of your past battles and your beliefs and plans, and now you are going to jeopardize all of it for a woman. Your love for her will make you weak."

Revan lunged forward and stood face to face with the alien, barely two inches separating them. He said, "Don't you _ever _call me weak! I know what I am doing! I set all of this up, and I can destroy it if I so desire!"

"Very well, my lord, let the Republic—and Scythia—burn. I do hope you enjoy her company in these the worlds' last nights."

Revan was consumed in anger now—his apprentice, his most trusted agent, was standing against him. Surely this couldn't be. This was the way of the Sith, wasn't it? Could he be a Sith? _I'm not a Sith again, I'm not!_ he thought, panicked.

Still angry, he struck at Hsintah. He intended to backhand the alien for daring to stand in his way, but his hand was caught in mid-air. Hsintah gripped his wrist and held it in front of his face. Revan was shocked, his apprentice had just humiliated him. Would he now attack him, too? Would he follow in the way of the Sith and try to kill him?

He would not.

"Very well," said Hsintah again, "I vowed to stay with you and see this through—I will not rescind on my vows." The alien let go of Revan's bent wrist and stepped aside, resigning to let his master do whatever he willed.

Revan pulled his wrist close to his chest and rubbed it—the alien had almost crushed it with his grip. He said, "Thank you…Hsintah." He shook himself out of his stupor and then gave his orders. "Quickly, stage an attack at the southeast corner of the building. See if you can send as many of the Sith as possible away. Tell them we have had a breach by Republic spies—that'll distract them long enough for us to escape."

"I will do this," Hsintah complied.

"Thank you," Revan said as he turned to leave the communications room for the last time. He stalled and said over his shoulder, "Good luck, Hsintah."


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Revan nearly tripped and fell three different times trying to make his way to Bastila's cell. She was on a different floor than Caius and Xristos, as he had deemed her more important.

He burst through the last remaining door, slammed his foot into some object, and let his inertia carry him to her. She was sitting alone in the cell. Her back was wedged into the corner and her face was buried in her arms as she was curled up into a ball.

The sight agonized him; he felt that he was witnessing, right at this moment, his greatest moral failure. In the dark room he could only vaguely see that she stirred as he came in. He could see her head lift and look at him. He felt so sick, so terribly corrupted at beholding this image. She was so pure and wonderful to him; he couldn't believe he had allowed this to happen. Never, in all his life, could he have imagined that this would happen. He had once loved her so dearly…and now he felt that he did again, even though it was too late.

He panted, "Bastila…"

Her voice croaked and squeaked, a weak, defeated sound coming from the cell. It said sadly, "Please go away…I can't bear to see you."

He just repeated her name, "Bastila…" He fell to his knees in front of the iron bars of her cell; he clasped his hands together and bent over, looking down at them as they rested in between his knees. His position suggested of some kind of sorrowful penance, as though he was now going to try to atone for everything he had done.

Bastila just groaned quietly, hoping that he would leave.

He said, without raising his head, "Bastila…I am so sorry…"

She gently stirred, but did not speak.

"I am so sorry for all of this—these words…they do not even properly convey the degree of anguish I feel over this." Even now, his formal style of speech was constricting him, he just wanted to spit it all out, but he couldn't. He could only use this language that did not do his feelings justice. He simply continued, "I know you won't forgive me…but I want to try to fix this." He gulped, and he felt his eyes sting, before trying again. He said, "I cannot stand by and allow you to die. I cannot. Bastila…I know you don't believe me…but I love you."

A sort of breathy, choked up sigh came from her as she tried to speak. She asked simply, "Why…why are you doing this?"

"I don't even know anymore," he said woefully, "I was trying to help the Republic…trying to do the right thing. I got confused…lost…I was stupid, Bastila. I know you won't ever trust me again, but…" he clenched his fists harder, but dared to look up at her for the first time since breaking into the room. He could see her steel blue eyes, very watery, through the darkness. Just a gray silhouette and those eyes…it was haunting. The glared right into him, and felt his sight beginning to fog up as well. "But," he gulped, "will you let me try to fix this? Will you trust me? I will get you out of here, Bastila, my love, I don't care what it costs me, I will save you."

He heard a light sniffle, and she spoke again, her voice wet with emotion, "Can you…save me from yourself?"

He had no true answer to this. He only replied sorrowfully, "I can only ask you to trust me…" He slowly leaned forward and held his hand out. In it, he had her comm link. He gently moved his hand between the bars to her cell, beckoning her to take it. He said, "Call your ship…if you can contact it…I can get you out of here."

Slowly, Bastila uncurled from her corner and stretched towards him. She was on her knees still, and one hand on the ground, moving towards him very deliberately. She cautiously reached for his hand.

He held his palm out flat, waiting for her. He wanted so badly to touch her hand, just to feel it again, but she did not indulge him. Her hand shot out quickly, like a serpent, and snatched the comm link out of his hand before he even knew what had happened. He sighed and slowly closed his hand, pulling it out of the cell. He stood up as she began to activate it and said again, "I'm so sorry…"

Allie quickly wheeled around one of the obstructions that jutted out of the wall of the outside of the Sith complex. HK took cover beside her. On the other side of the building, almost inexplicably, a great gathering of Sith had burst outside, guns blazing. They had even fired at the ground as they exited the building, apparently prepping for some kind of skirmish.

"How many are there?" Allie asked.

"Answer: I believe anywhere from ten to three dozen," responded the droid.

* * *

Allie gulped—his answer was not helpful, but it did not matter as whatever number it was, they could not defeat them by themselves.

"Statement: I believe I have arrived at a possible strategy for disposing of the Sithbags," HK informed her.

"No, HK," she said quickly and quietly, "we don't need to fight them, we just have to get inside."

Somewhat nonplussed by this information, HK said, "Query: Err…if that is the plan, then why not use this door?" He gestured several yards the other direction.

"A door?" Allie asked, though she did not want nor listen to HK's crass response. She sidled as close to the wall as possible to get towards the door HK had indicated. Once she reached it, she was rather shocked at its simplicity—it seemed to be a simple, forgotten back door, like one that would be found at the back of a cheap restaurant.

"Statement: I believe it has been locked. But this flimsy excuse for defense could be easily blown open."

"No, HK," she said, once again admonishing the droid, "let me take care of it." She knelt down in front of the door and took a few slicing tools from her belt. "Just keep the coast clear."

"Statement: Yes, master's…friend."

* * *

Elliott was sitting quietly in the cockpit of the _Hawk_, thinking over everything that had happened. He was second guessing himself about four times a minute, and a heated argument with Dustil had not helped things. The Jedi had gotten so upset that they had almost come to blows. Fortunately for Elliott, the young man was still largely immobile, and could not sustain his wrath. He had almost fainted when he stood up and had to try to calm himself down. Elliott hurriedly escaped to the cockpit afterwards.

The subject of the fight had been Elliott's cowardice, or at least, that's what Dustil called it. The Jedi had called him the "most contemptible person he'd ever met" and then repeatedly challenged him to answer the question, "how can you live with yourself?" In truth, Elliott couldn't live with himself; that was why he always acted the way he did. So much had gone wrong in his life that he had resorted to just shoving it all away and ignoring it, but Dustil was not allowing him to live down this regret. It had only been a few hours since Allie had left, and even now he was being tormented by his decision. He did feel cowardly, he did feel like he had betrayed them, but he felt even worse because he believed that he could no help it.

Suddenly he heard the distinct buzzing and ringing of the comm link—Allie had left it behind after all. Slowly he reached for it. He grasped it tightly in one bleach white hand and clicked it on.

On the other end he heard hesitation and then a faint, dejected whisper. "Elliott?" it said, and he recognized the voice—it was Bastila, and she seemed to be…not herself. "Are you there?" she asked meekly.

"This is Elliott…" he said warily.

"Elliott," Bastila said, her voice becoming harder, though still overwhelmed with emotion, "can you get the _Ebon Hawk _in the air?"

"I…ca—"

She cut him off, "You have to listen to me…we've been captured, but we can escape through the roof of the largest black building in the area." She went on to describe the directions in detail. She then punctuated it with, "Elliott…get the _Hawk _to the roof so we can escape."

"What about the Republic?" he asked. "If we don't make it…"

"You have to do this!" she begged him, "they wouldn't make it anyway…"

"Okay," he said, and then shut off the transmitter before Bastila could respond. He opened his hand and let the device drop from his hand to the ground, bouncing haplessly on the hard surface of the _Hawk_'s cockpit.

Now he was faced with an even worse dilemma. What would he do? Should he risk his life to save the crew? At the possible expense of the entire Republic, should he perish? Or should he abandon them and do the logical thing? That is, fleeing and reporting what they had found on Malacandra? He pondered these options silently, but Dustil interrupted his thoughts.

"Don't you dare think about leaving them," said the young man, who had somehow found the strength to walk to the cockpit. He was holding onto the navicomputer wall for dear life, leaning against it, as he was too weak to hold himself up. "Don't…you…dare…"

"You want me to fly our ship over the Sith city to save them?"

Dustil coughed, "Yes, I do."

"And what if we die?"

"Then we die," Dustil answered, "but we're going to try to save them. It doesn't matter if we went back now—we can't leave without Revan, he _must _know how to defeat the Sith. No one else does."

Elliott scowled tremendously, said, "You better be right, kid."

Silently, he was now leaning towards the rescue. Was this it? A chance for redemption? Would he take it this time?

* * *

Even though Revan had let her out of the cell, she still did not venture to trust him. She was only going along with this because the alternative was to remain in the cage, which she did not fancy. They quickly darted through the dark corridors, trying to manage a way to the roof. Revan was leading the way, his mask off and his hood down. He had explained that they were now exposed, a staged attack had led most of the Sith away, but any minute they would realize what had happened and were bound to turn on him and besiege the stronghold.

As they scampered through the darkness, they met up with Hsintah, who looked to be very heavily armed.

They ran as fast as they could, but suddenly a thought seized Bastila's mind—something she had forgotten because of her bewildered state, but something she knew she could not allow to go unspoken. She grabbed Revan's wrist and stopped him. The grip caught him off guard and he was nearly pulled off his feet as they were still trying to run.

He whirled around towards her, and once again she saw the temperamental fire in his eyes. He exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

"My friends," she said simply. "Where are they?"

"They were captured, Bastila, there's nothing you can do," he said, trying to be as vague as possible. "There's no way we can get them out now, we must save ourselves—if any are to be saved at all."

She stared at him for a few moments, but then looked down and released his arm. His words deeply hurt her—she was going to have to leave Caius and Xristos behind, it was not something she thought she could bear. Ironically, after coming all this way, and seeing what Revan had become, she felt that if it were up to her she would choose to have her friends back over him.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued following him up to the roof of their complex. She felt that she could not go on, not while abandoning her companions, but she saw she had no choice, and so continued on, but her heart was broken yet again.

* * *

Caius waited quietly in his cell. He had long since stopped speaking to Xristos; the guard had eventually gotten angry with them for making too much noise. After a few threats, they went quiet, and Caius thought about what the old man had said. He dwelt on his philosophies and words, thinking mostly about Allie. Xristos was right, he had been an ass—the old man didn't call him that, but Caius knew that's what he was. If he could've done it over again, he would not have treated her the way that he did.

Looking back, it was odd to think about how their "relationship" had even happened. Allie had been a last minute addition to the crew, only because of a change of plans concerning the navicomputer. He had not known how to regard her—she seemed younger than him, but she wasn't. She seemed like she would not be helpful, but she turned out to contribute more to the quest than he did. It was rather awkward for him. But in his cell he realized that the reason he had had such a hard time talking to her was because he had been attracted to her since the very beginning. The only problem was, being a Jedi, he hadn't known it. How would he know? The confusion made him distant and unlikable and bewildering, and it's a wonder she didn't hate him.

Although, he realized, she probably did after their last conversation.

Still, he knew now that she was special to him. They certainly made an odd pair, but then again who didn't? At least they would not have had the emotional struggles that Bastila and Revan had. And that would be a true blessing, or it would have been, had things turned out differently.

Caius's thoughts then wandered to Bastila. He wondered where she was, and he wondered if she was having as hard a time dealing with this turn of events as he imagined she would. She was strong, she could handle emotional trauma, but this would be a veritable holocaust for her. He did not think anyone could withstand being betrayed like this—if she had even been captured. The possibility entered his mind that she could be dead, but he didn't want to think about that.

His mind stopped wandering and he found himself staring at the guard, who was sitting directly opposite of his cell. Maybe he could try choking him. He had not really thought of using the Force against the guard until that point. Even if he succeeded in killing him, he could not escape, so the thought never entered his mind. Now, however, he was considering killing the guard just to take someone down with him.

He squinted in the darkness to determine when the best opportunity to strike would be, but he would not get the chance.

Inexplicably, the heavy metal door that led to the halls outside of the prison blasted open. Sparks and smoke exploded into a whirlwind of movement. The Sith screeched, rising from his chair and spastically going for his pistol.

There was another screeching hiss, but this one was altogether more familiar to Caius—indeed, it was like music to his ears. An incandescent blue beam shot out of the smoke and carved a swathe through the dark air. The Sith shrieked and fired, but two of his shots went wide and one was bounced off of the beam. There was some kind of scuffling noise and then the blue beam arched through the air and sliced through the Sith's torso. Its movement seemed distinctively wobbly, as though the wielder was unsure of how to properly use the device. The Sith, nevertheless, was split in half and fell to the ground in pieces.

Out of the dust and debris came a rather short Sith soldier who happened to be wielding the beam…a lightsaber. Caius was so stunned by the apparition that he did not know what to think, let alone do. It strode closer and then after staring into his cell for a second, spoke.

The voice caught him even more off guard than the image. Instead of the garbled, low voice of a Sith thug, it was high-pitched and sweetly pleasant. It said, "I found them, they're in here!"

"…What?" Caius ventured to say, as that was the only word his mind could process.

The Sith reached for its cowl and in one smooth gesture let it fall down.

Caius could not suppress a shout and exclaimed in the kind of stupefied shock that one person might only experience once in a lifetime, "_Allie_?"

She smiled crookedly, her teeth showing through her parted lips. Her wavy, brown hair was frayed outwards unnaturally because of the hood, and her face was dirty, but it was indeed her.

Xristos, apparently as stunned as Caius, said from the other cell, "Well…I can't say I expected to see you here!"

HK, covered in blood, then stumbled clumsily through the door and slammed his left arm against it as he came in. He said, "Statement: Six—I just slew six of those abominations, my behavior core is glowing. Query: And what is this? Do my photoreceptors detect the master?"

"HK…?" Caius asked, not sure that he was awake and not dreaming.

"Answer: Indeed, master. I have come with Madame Meatbag to rescue you."

Allie, not wasting any more time, held Caius's blue lightsaber to the lock on his cell until the energy beam tore through it. It made a strange popping noise before falling onto the ground. She then took a step into his cell and cut through his chains, freeing him from bondage.

Just as quickly as she entered, she moved to Xristos's cell and did the same for him. A few seconds passed, and then Caius heard his lighstaber deactivate. Allie then came towards him, a look of cold determination on her face, and then tossed him his lightsaber. She gave Xristos his, too.

"How did you learn to use a lightsaber?" Xristos asked.

Allie simply shrugged, "I don't know—I just turned it on and tried to swing it."

Xristos snickered slightly, said, "I suppose that is all we do, too."

Caius wandered out of his cell, but was still in shock. He simply stared at her. He felt, at this moment, that her dirty, bruised, and sweaty face was quite possibly—no, it definitely was—the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"I love you," he blurted out.

Allie's brown eyes met Caius's, and he could almost see the uncomprehending confusion behind hers. She only managed to stutter an incoherent answer, "I…um…all…"

Xristos then cut her off, said to Caius, "Well, you are a romantic after all, but I think we would be better served escaping right now. Agreed?"

"I…uh…yes," said Allie. Caius nodded.

No sooner had she finished her uncertain statement than did a violent convulsion seize the entire structure. It seemed to come from an explosion, or some large collision, as debris fell from the ceiling onto the ground, dust flying everywhere.

"HK," began Caius, "can you lead us out of here?"

"Answer: Of course, Master—it is simply a matter of determining whether or not escape is possible at this point."

* * *

Ardashir stood outside the complex. His soldiers were beginning to lay siege to the fortress. Severus had betrayed them, this he knew. They had hauled out their bombs and were blowing the doors and walls down in order to break in. They would gut the complex and cleanse it of life.

"_My Lord,_" began a captain, "_we have broken in through three different avenues, but we are experiencing resistance from our own—confusion reigns_."

"_Shoot without discretion_," Ardashir answered, "_friend—foe; it makes no difference. Leave none alive._"

"_As you wish._"

* * *

Inside, it was absolute chaos. Ardashir's Sith were breaking in through at least threw different outlets and were killing everyone inside. Some of Revan's Sith were fighting back, and some of them were fleeing. Some of them were attacking Revan and Bastila as they found him escaping and learned his true identity. All things considered, it was a mess.

A small group of Sith soldiers had attacked Revan in the hallway, but he and Hsintah cut through them with their swords. Bastila just watched indifferently. She felt as though she was just floating through this whole debacle. She was completely and utterly detached, unable to even muster the will to fight. She just stood there and watched.

One Sith flew at Revan and tried to pin him to the wall, it's hands on his face, but it was stabbed in the back by the Hasan servant and thrown to the ground.

Bastila took a large step over one of the dead, but as she glanced down she realized that the creature was still alive. She gazed at it awkwardly until she noticed that it was shakily holding a gun at her. It writhed and turned over, trying to steady its aim. She did not move, just stared emptily at the gun barrel. Just as the Sith seemed poised to pull the trigger, the gun was pulled from its hands by an unseen force, and then it was jolted sideways into a wall where it died.

Revan leaped in front of her and grabbed her wrist, shouted, "Come on! We are nearly there!"

* * *

Lord Ardashir entered the complex himself. He burst through a shattered wall and was immediately engaged by about six confused underlings who had once served Severus. As they fired at him, he calmly struck the ground. His fist punched into the dirt and, through the Force, blasted a sonar shockwave outwards. The shrieking wail gripped his attackers and broke their minds.

He stood up and calmly proceeded forwards.

* * *

HK led the small team through the corridors, wandering blindly from room to room.

"Where are we going?" Allie asked him, "do you even have a plan?"

"Answer:" began HK, "the most statistically probable avenue of escape in the event of an attack from the outside is via the rooftops. These buildings are not far apart—we should be able to make our way out."

"Over the rooftops?" Caius exclaimed. "That's our plan?"

"Statement: We have no alternatives."

Caius sighed and they continued on. They only made it through a few more identical, dark rooms before being assaulted by a relatively large group of Sith insurgents. Shockingly, they seemed to be warring against each other. However, as soon as they beheld the humans in the area, they ceased and opened fire, bullets spraying against the stone walls and ricocheting every direction.

Allie and HK ducked for cover, and Caius and Xristos did their best to dodge the myriad of shells. A quick strike with the Force threw most of the attackers backwards, and then they counterattacked.

HK unleashed a torrent of blaster bolts into them as they careened into the wall at the other end of the room, and Caius and Xristos threw themselves into the fray. Their lightsabers swept through the mangled heap, severing all sorts of limbs from an indistinguishable dark mass. The Sith were scrambling in all directions, but with the Jedi in their midst they could not fire at such short range. Allie vaulted into the mix and stabbed one of the Sith in the chest with a knife, and after a few more whirling lighstaber attacks, the entire group was dead.

"That was weird," Allie said. "What is happening?"

"Civil war?" Xristos suggested. "I don't know."

"Statement: We must proceed," HK informed them.

They made it through several more rooms and then found a staircase that took them to the next floor. They went fifty yards through the adjacent hallway and towards another staircase before Xristos halted them with a suggestion.

He said, "Wait—Revan must have some communications equipment here—you said you saw it, right Caius?"

"Well…yeah," said the Exile, surprised, "but why the hell are we stopping?"

"The Republic," Xristos said through labored breaths, "has to be warned. We need to contact Admiral Onasi."

"We can do that at the _Ebon Hawk_," Caius stated.

"No," the old man insisted, "our equipment is destroyed—we have to do it here or they won't be able to prepare a defense."

Caius did not know what to say to this—was it wise? HK spoke for him, said, "Statement: Time is of the essence, my sensors detect a high level of heat generated from potential communications stations at the other side of this floor; but escape after finding it would be unlikely."

As if to punctuate his sentence, several shrieking noises slithered out of the stairwell they had just emerged from, indicating that a group of Sith were on the way.

Caius tried to urge them onward, he said, "We can't do it, Xristos, we have to keep going."

"I'll go," he said.

"No!" Allie interrupted, "you can't!"

"The Republic is more important than one person," he replied, taking a deep breath afterwards.

The clamoring at the stairwell was becoming louder, and they were standing dangerously close to it.

"You can't go, Xristos, you'll die," Caius cautioned.

Xristos gave a wry smile, replied, "What is death but my birthday into eternity?"

"This is no time to get philosophical, old man!" shouted Caius over the approaching din. He and Allie took three instinctive steps towards the staircase to the next floor. "Come on!" he yelled, "come with us!"

There was an explosion of noise, and then a flurry of bullets blasted out from the lower stairwell. The shots chipped away at the wall, throwing dust and debris everywhere, blocking their vision. A minor explosion, perhaps from a small grenade, threw Caius to the ground. He rolled backwards, towards the upper staircase. Allie was next to him, and HK was ready with his rifle.

Xristos was wedged into a nook at the opposite end of the hallway, right nearby a corner. He had his lightsaber on, and he regarded them gravely, said, "I love all of you." There was another explosion, he continued, "If you find Bastila, tell her to remember what I said."

"Xristos—don't do this!" Allie yelled over the din, more bullets chipping away the wall and throwing dirt into their faces.

"Goodbye, my friends," he said calmly, "and may the Force be with you."

"_No!_" screamed Caius. There was another explosion; a flurry of movement, and the Exile lunged blindly out into the hall. He was immediately amidst a throng of Sith soldiers, his lightsaber carving through them almost automatically. He was scoured the dark corridor, but could not see the old man anywhere.

He was gone.

* * *

"Take care, my lord," said Hsintah before he threw himself into an entire battalion of Sith soldiers, hacking violently into them with his sword.

Bastila was watching in awe, but she was pulled back to reality by Revan. He gripped her arm, said, "Come on!" He pulled her along behind him towards the final staircase. Apparently Hsintah was not coming with them, using his life to buy them time. Normally she would have been thankful for such a sacrifice—but right now she simply did not seem to care.

Revan tugged her nearly limp body up what he indicated was the final staircase. As they ascended, the light was growing brighter, penetrating the cavernous blackness that was Revan's stronghold. The unnatural darkness was no doubt an affect of the Sith's attack, and it served to make the light of the outside world nearly blinding.

Revan burst through the final door and threw himself outside, Bastila at his side. He almost collapsed to the ground, but forced himself up, hands on his knees.

"Where is your pilot?" he roared.

Bastila paid him no heed.

The door that Revan had shut behind them was now at the hands of their attackers. The Prodigal Knight threw himself at it to keep it from opening, using all of his might and the Force to try to keep it shut, but slowly it began to inch open.

Bastila, however, did not watch him. She squinted out towards the horizon, watching the empty nothingness that was the skyline. She couldn't see anything, but she did not care to move. The wind rustled through her hair, blowing into her eyes and restricting her vision, but still she looked.

Revan yelled at her, "Help me keep this closed!"

She did not say anything, but was now watching a rapidly approaching object in the distance. It seemed to be streaking towards them at an unnaturally fast pace. It came closer and closer, revealing itself to be a dark red and white disk whirling towards them.

A strong blow from behind the door catapulted Revan three feet backwards and onto his back. He tried to roll to the side and cover his head, scrambling to prepare for the oncoming attack.

The streaking white disk then burst into flames. The front of it suddenly exploded into a red beam, and several laser bolts blasted past Bastila, over Revan's head, and ripped into the door that had just opened. The unfortunate Sith that had opened it were incinerated immediately.

Revan couldn't believe it, and, looking up, he saw the last thing he could have possibly expected: the _Ebon Hawk_, circling in the sky and preparing a descent.

* * *

Xristos knew that he would not survive this, but it was something he had to do. The Republic had to be alerted to the danger—there was not much time, so he had to do it now. He had not wanted to say this to Caius, but he doubted that they would escape. He needed to at least buy them some time. And if they all perished, then there was no way the Republic would ever be warned. He would have to do this now to make sure at least one warning got out.

He scrambled as fast as his old legs would carry him through the black interior of the fortress. He had opened three doors and found nothing, and time was growing shorter. He rounded a corner and set his eyes on another door, this one conspicuously ajar. He sprinted towards it, bashing it open with his shoulder, not even taking the time to stop running, and burst inside.

This was the right one. Inside were dozens of shimmering screens, wires everywhere, and somewhat archaic antennas. He had counted on this, since Revan had likely constructed this equipment, it would have an interface he could work with. A simple emergency broadcast would do the trick. Even if it were intercepted, it wouldn't matter now, as the Sith knew they were there and they would not be able to understand it.

He quickly ran to the nearest console and ran his hands over it, trying to clear the wires out of the way. He began working furiously at the machine, trying desperately to put in all the necessary information before sending it off. He heard footsteps clanking loudly in the distance, and he knew they were getting closer.

He set it so the message would repeat, and ordered it to broadcast not to any single point, but in the general area of Kuat—the center of the Republic military. Once it got there, any ship in the area could pick it up. Although civilians probably would not be able to understand it.

He then sabotaged the equipment, throwing the Sith communications channels into disarray. Through luck he stumbled across another computer that was monitoring the defense systems of the fortress. He scrambled the settings so that the turrets would fire upon identified friendlies. Lastly, he sent set off every alarm and emergency transmission that he could find, hoping to distract and confuse the Sith who tried to respond to the prison break. He might have even tripped an alarm in other buildings, he could not be certain. He simply had to destroy as much as possible.

The footsteps grew louder, and eventually manifested in the door to the comm room flying open violently, slamming hard into the wall.

Xristos hurriedly finished his work. No sooner had he done so than did he hear a loud crack from behind him; a horrid pain in his left arm immediately accompanied the noise. He fell to the ground, his right hand still holding onto the console. He used his good hand to turn his body around and threw a wave of the Force at his attacker in the process. The Sith soldier went flying into the wall and slumped to the ground.

The Jedi slowly got his feet, gripping his wounded arm. He staggered forward, tried to use the Force to stabilize himself as best he could, and then activated his green weapon.

The door flew open again and more Sith rushed through it, their guns blazing.

One of them lunged at him and he shifted to the side and let his sword cut through it like butter. Its body fell lifeless to the ground. The other Sith opened fire and he did his best to avoid getting hit, but could not stop them all.

More bullets tore into him, but the pain was almost gone at this point. He cut down two of the closest Sith, but they continued to pour in, running in closer. He was hit in his hand, causing his lightsaber to fly from his hand across the room. He fell to his knees, succumbing the vestibular nightmare. He was only vaguely aware of the horde swarming towards him. The mass of Sith overwhelmed him, all of them right there. His vision went. Then his hearing began to fade. Slowly it morphed from calamity to a high-pitched buzz, and then it disappeared.

He now felt that he was in a void, somewhere in between. _So, _he thought to himself lucidly, _this is death? It is like…passing through a door…_

He slumped to the ground, amidst the all the screaming attackers, and did not move again. His life expired, and all of his questions were answered.

* * *

Minutes later, Ardashir was given another report. Alarms had begun ringing wildly, and the automated defense systems of the fortress were now firing indiscriminately. A turret that had surprisingly turned on him had nearly shot him, but he dodged the bullets and then dismantled it with his mind.

An orderly hurried to report to him, "_My Lord, one of the humans Severus was hiding sabotaged the defenses—we are being pinned down._"

"_Solve the problem_," ordered Ardashir.

"_We are trying, my lord, but with the defenses the way that they are—we cannot get to the roof, which is where they are headed_."

Ardashir began to shut the orderly's trachea, but not enough to kill him. He ordered, "_Get to the roof and stop them, do not fail._"

* * *

Caius could feel it. Xristos had left, he could feel the little light of goodness that was on the other side of the building get snuffed out. And it was gone, as though it had never existed. He wanted to grieve, but he couldn't. Instead he was just angry. In a mad rage he had cut through nearly twenty of the Sith attackers. The entire group that had pursued them up the staircase was dead at his feet.

An explosion of loud noises, sirens, and explosions all set off almost instantaneously.

"What is that?" Allie asked.

"I don't know! Keep going!" shouted Caius.

Gunfire started erupting from almost every part of the building. Bullets flew everywhere, automated turrets firing on their Sith allies. The party rounded one corner and found almost two dozen dead Sith in front of them.

"They're…dead?" asked Caius.

"Statement: Move!" commanded HK.

They continued on. Caius insisted on taking the lead. Any Sith that he came across, that was still alive, he gutted, the body count growing incredibly large. Allie and HK both fought respectably, but Caius single-handedly slew almost all of them.

They stormed through the remaining passageways until HK alerted them, "Statement: The exit to the roof appears to be at the end of this staircase."

They quickly ran up the steps, skipping two and three at a time, until the reached the mouth of the corridor. Strangely, the door was unhinged and half a dozen dead Sith were strewn about. The frame of the door was blackened and charred, apparently from an explosion. The group nimbly stepped between the bodies and then emerged into the unrelenting brightness that was the outdoors.

Caius squinted, but then couldn't believe what he saw.

HK informed him that he wasn't dreaming, "Statement: I believe the _Ebon Hawk _is here already."

Sure enough, the freighter seemed to have landed right on top of the building, waiting for them. Caius tried to get a grip on what he was seeing, but still was having difficulties. He then noticed a figure standing out against the backdrop of the ship, merely waiting on top of the loading ramp.

"Bastila!" he called out as loud as he could. _What is she doing here? _he thought to himself. He reasoned that she must have escaped and brought Elliott to save them. Although it seemed very convenient.

The Jedi was completely caught of guard. One minute she was barely holding onto her will to exist, and then suddenly she saw half of her crew running towards her. Instantly her mind snapped into action. She yelled inside the ship, "Wait! Caius and Allie are outside!"

She then turned on her heels and ran down the ramp, towards the oncoming party. As she sprinted, she heard several wailing shrieks above her head. A glance upwards revealed that a dozen or so scarab-esque Sith attack fighters were lining up for a strafing maneuver. "Come on!" she urged them, "quickly!"

Shockingly, the AA guns situated around the fortress began firing upon the Sith fighters. Seven of them dropped almost immediately, caught completely unaware. The remaining planes rocketed out of the way—two of them collided—and began returning fire on the turrets. Three of them managed to break through the volleys of rockets and hail of bullets.

The first of the fighters opened fire. Caius and Allie ducked as the spray of bullets ripped into the ground around them. HK obstinately returned fire on the plane.

Another fighter lined up an attack, but this time Bastila was ready for it. It flew too low overhead, its shots going wide. As it passed, barely ten yards from her, she threw her lightsaber at the rear stabilizer. Strengthening it with the Force, the beam cleaved the stabilizer from the ship, sending it into a violent tailspin. It flipped out of control and smashed into a nearby building, bursting into flames.

Caius and Allie met up with her, HK bringing up the rear, and they moved back towards the _Hawk_ as fast as possible. As they sprinted, the last fighter fired, but fortunately missed them. It screamed overhead, but was met with a volley from the _Hawk_, blasting it to pieces.

The group made it to the lowered ramp just as Elliott was lifting off. The ship shuddered as it raised from the ground. Bastila and HK deftly leaped inside, but Allie and Caius were still at the base of the closing ramp. As they turned around, the ship shuddered and threw them to the ground—the last remaining Sith fighter having struck it with a missile.

The blow did only superficial damage, but it had thrown everyone to the ground. Allie hit the surface of the ramp and rolled down it. She tried to grab onto something, but her inertia carried her away.

Caius, in a miraculously quick movement, torqued his body around and threw his hand out, grabbing her wrist before she was thrown outside the ship. However, she was still dangling halfway. The ramp was quickly shutting, and it if didn't crush her in the process, it would kill the rest of them if Elliott left the atmosphere.

Caius fused himself with the Force and pulled as hard as he possibly could. He had not tried to exert this much strength in his life ever before, but with only one arm he tried to pull Allie up and inside the _Hawk_.

His voice contorted as he tried to lift her, the pain from such exertion causing him to audibly scream. His veins bulged from his neck and his face reddened, but he somehow did it. He rolled over and pulled Allie's arm over his shoulder, just barely lifting her inside in time for the ramp to shut harmlessly.

He dropped her hand and gasped for air, not even bothering to get up. Allie was next to him, hardly moving, but still trying to get up. After three more labored attempts to breath, he tried to sit up. He looked down at Allie and asked, "Are…you okay?"

She pushed herself up and looked at him in the eye—she did not speak, only nodded slightly in the affirmative.

Caius realized that they were actually on top of each other, having not noticed it before. Allie's head fell downwards as she tried to breath, apparently having as much difficulty as he did. Without speaking, Caius put his arms around her and embraced her, bring her head to his right shoulder. He did not know why, but it just felt like the right thing to do. And as soon as she realized what was happening, she reciprocated. Neither of them moved for some time, they simply sat there resting.

The Exile's mind was a blurred whirlwind of images and noises, he could not think straight. He was trying to just gather his strength, but his brain wouldn't let him alone.

And that was when the finality hit him—Xristos was dead.

It couldn't be, not that grandfatherly old man who had always been there with annoyingly persistent philosophical advice. How is it that fate had allowed him to die? It was not fair.

The Exile realized that he would have to inform the rest of the crew. Bastila was no doubt wondering where Xristos was, though, considering her intelligence, she had likely deducted what had happened.

Slowly Caius let go of Allie and tried to stand up. She did not, but moved backwards and leaned back against a wall, letting her head fall back as she tried to rest.

Caius rose labouredly to his feet, took a deep breath, and then began to walk. The depression was hitting him hard, however. He realized that their entire mission had been a failure. Xristos was gone, the Sith were invading, and Revan had betrayed them.

Revan—it was his fault. They had come all this way and he had tried to kill them. What would he tell Carth? Or the rest of the Republic? Assuming it survived…

And then Caius was frozen. His gaze fell upon the man, beholding him—right there, just standing in front of him. Revan was standing innocently in the briefing room of the _Hawk_, and he didn't even see the Exile. Bastila and Dustil were nowhere near, and neither was HK. It was just the two of them.

_How can this be_? Caius thought. But the answer did not matter; now he would be given an opportunity for revenge. Rage welled up within him, roaring like fire. So great was his hate for this man that he could not even refrain from yelling as he lunged at him.

Revan turned around warily, completely unaware of what would befall him. He saw Caius out of the corner of his eye, but by then it was too late.

The Exile, still with the broken chains of his imprisonment on his wrists, wrapped them around his fist. He lunged forward and let fly the most violent punch he had ever thrown. The chain on his fist collided squarely with the left side of Revan's face, tearing into his flesh and Caius's hand. The Prodigal Knight went reeling from the blow, blood flying from his mouth. He fell onto one of the chairs nearby sideways, instinctively feeling the side of his face.

It did not matter that Revan was such a powerful Jedi—Caius had gotten the jump on him, and with the fury of the Dark Side behind him, Revan would stand no chance.

"You bastard son of a bitch!" Caius yelled. "Xristos is dead because of you!"

Revan tried to go for his blade, but Caius merely whacked it out of his hand, sending it across the room. The Exile then thrust his knee into his stomach, expelling the air from Revan's lungs. He gripped him by the shoulders and head butted him, sending the Knight to the ground. Revan flailed into a corner, his face broken and his body almost completely immobile.

Caius pulled out his lightsaber and activated it, letting it spin around his wrist. He said, "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

He raised his blue beam over his head, but Revan did nothing to resist—he was beaten. The Exile let the sword fall, but was suddenly met with resistance of a different kind. Two more blue beams, both of them crossed with his strike falling in between them and halting, intercepted his blow.

Bastila spun both of her lightsabers around and Caius's arm twisted, his weapon careening across the room to join Revan's. She held one lightsaber up to him, and another was pointed at Revan, who was still bleeding out of his mouth and forehead.

She said, "No one is killing anyone. Understood?"

Caius felt his rage boil over, but there was nothing he could do. He was now beaten. Slowly he ventured a look around, and he saw that everyone was there, Dustil was standing wearily behind a chair, Allie was next to him, HK and T3 were on the other side of the map, and even Elliott was there. Apparently, during the scuffle, they had jumped to hyperspace.

Caius took a step backwards, wiped his mouth, and then gathered his wits. He pointed accusingly at the bludgeoned Revan, said, "Do you understand what this man has done to us?"

Revan strained and stood up, favoring one leg and holding his hand on his face.

"Xristos is _dead_ because of him," Caius stated.

Bastila, though she knew this, let her guard fall. Hearing the words hurt her, and she did not want to have to think about it.

Allie lowered her head and looked at her feet.

Dustil fell into the chair he was standing by, his hands shaking. "The old man…he's…dead?" he asked, disbelieving. His face twitched a little bit and he put his hand over his mouth and muttered, "That can't…no…"

Caius felt his eyes well up as he spoke. He couldn't even remember the last time he actually cried, and he didn't want to do it now, but the death of Xristos was too painful to try to stop it. He looked around and noticed that everyone else's eyes were watering too, even Elliott's. Bastila's head drooped.

Caius swallowed and said, "Whatever…but we…" he then pointed at Revan again and raised his voice, "I'm not going to forget this. I promise you."

Still Revan did not speak. He merely glared at Caius, and an intense, minute-long staredown resulted. It only ended when both of them heard Bastila's lightsabers deactivate and they instinctively looked at her.

Elliott tried to clear his throat and said, "We're on our way to an outer rim military outpost—some kind of station. We need fuel…so…we're going there first."

"Thank you, Elliott," Bastila said, her voice overcome with emotion.

Caius fell backwards into one of the available chairs.

"We'll be there in a few hours…" said Elliott.

No one answered him. Dustil tried hard to get up, and when he finally did he struggled to walk away, but said, "I want…I need to go away."

The rest of them all filed out of the room. Elliott went to the cockpit, Bastila took Revan to the medical room to try to heal as many of wounds Caius had inflicted upon him in the beatdown as possible. Allie walked by Caius, but only regarded him with a distant look, and then she left to go to her dormitory.

That left Caius alone with the two droids and his thoughts. He knew that he should not have exploded with such anger, but if anyone deserved it, it was Revan. Their whole mission had been compromised, and now it was as total a failure as could have been imagined.

Surely Nantaris would not be pleased—rather than finding out anything, all their expedition had managed to do was trigger war. Just as he had tried to caution them against. Caius believed that this would have to be the single most destructive disaster in Republic history.

And it would likely be the last.

Ardashir towered above his underlings as he stood on top of the ruined fortress that had once belonged to Severus. He watched as the _Ebon Hawk_ launched into hyperspace, taking advantage of the confusion and fleeing. The infernal man that had stayed behind had bought them just enough time to escape. The Jedi was lucky he was dead, Ardashir would have broken him had his idiotic servants not slain the man. But they had. And the old Jedi had saved his companions—for now.

The Sith Lord had been duped. Severus had betrayed him and escaped, but it was far from over. His armada was ready; they merely needed to initiate their invasion.

His orderly was sprawled out on the ground, dead. It was not his failure that allowed Severus to escape, but Ardashir slew him anyway. He turned to a wary captain and bellowed, "_Follow them_."


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Carth Onasi sat idly behind his mammoth wooden desk, casually turning a small paperweight over in his palm. The little blue pyramid was a very attractive utensil, a lighter blue orb suspended inside of it, and he often fiddled around with it when he was trying to burn time—or procrastinating. This present moment fell under the latter category. In front of him was a seeming mountain of paperwork, almost all of which was pertaining to some sort of scandal involving one of his captains, who had apparently been caught by the Republic tabloid press in the company of a Twi'lek prostitute. Naturally, the man's military career was now behind him. Carth, however, was more disgusted at the paperwork than at the man's inability to resist his lustful temptations. Nothing was worse than paperwork—or so Carth thought.

A surprisingly loud slam reverberated throughout his office, causing him to drop his paperweight. His front door had opened and closed within a span of a single second. There were a few hasty footsteps, and then his private door was flung open, revealing his out-of-breath orderly—a lieutenant by the name of Galvin.

Galvin shuffled forward quickly, much to Carth's chagrin.

"You're supposed to knock, Lieutenant," he said tersely. Galvin was a good man, and quite a helpful secretary, but he had a tendency to overreact to things—Carth suspected this was one example.

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," Galvin offered, hoping to avoid any kind of lecture. When he saw that Carth was not going to say anything, he launched into his message, said, "Admiral, sir, transmission from Fleet HQ, high priority. I tried to reroute to it to your desk, but I couldn't, so you will have to open it yourself."

"I see," said Carth, "thank you, you may leave."

"Thank you, sir," said Galvin who briskly turned and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

Carth sighed. The one thing that _was_ worse than paperwork was a confidential message from brass. He knew he was not in line for a promotion, having just been elevated to Rear Admiral only a few months before, so there was no way this message was good news. He focused on his translucent, paper-thin monitor and entered in about six different passwords and authorization codes before anything showed up. When he finally accessed the document, however, his veins ran cold. It read:

_Admiral Onasi,_

_At 13:34 this afternoon, a destroyer in orbit around Kuat discovered a repeating distress transmission beamed from an unknown location. It was encoded so as only a military vessel would be able to decipher it, which suggests something of its author. It cycled the same message:_

"_Invasion Coruscant immanent large scale 5224-622-6378"_

_I suspect you are familiar with these numbers. Please report to me upon receiving this._

_Signed, _

_Forn Dodonna_

Carth's hands were trembling. Those numbers belonged to the _Ebon Hawk_. Although the ship had had its ID signature altered several times, this was the string she bore when he had commissioned all the repairs before Caius left with her. This did not bode well. Not at all.

* * *

Dodonna was in the neighborhood at the time of her transmission to Carth. She was aboard the capital ship of the Republic Fleet, an immense supercarrier by the name of _Vanguard_. The ship happened to be in orbit around Coruscant along with several CSGs, Carth's included along with his ship, _Reckoner_. He had graduated to a better vessel than the _Sojourn _in the past several weeks. Given the planet's importance and the recent turmoil that had engulfed the Republic, this was not unusual. It was, however, unfortunate for Carth.

Deciding against his better judgment, he sent a message to Nantaris to inform him of what he knew. He had a hunch that suggested he do it sooner rather than later.

It took him about two hours, but Carth was finally able to reply to Dodonna, inform her that he was on his way, send a message to Nantaris, and secure a private shuttle from the planet to _Vanguard._ The procedure annoyed him. And he had the added fear of the unknown that was overtaking him now—he was unsure what it was exactly that Dodonna wanted to say, but he feared the worst.

The shuttle ride had been oppressively silent, as he had spent the whole time pondering his predicament.

Upon disembarking, he curtly saluted an officer standing nearby, not even taking enough notice to learn his rank, and was told that Admiral Dodonna was in some isolated office on port side. He stalked through the various corridors of the ship until he finally—after what seemed like an hour—made it the meeting point. He briefly greeted an ADC, a Commander, and announced that he was to meet Dodonna. The woman assented and told him to go straight in to Dodonna's private office. He took a deep breath, smoothed out his gray uniform, put his hat under his arm, and strode as confidently as possible inside the room.

Inside, he found a dimly lit room with a rather large viewport overlooking Coruscant. He squinted and discerned that, near the very right end of the viewport, Dodonna was standing silently, waiting for him. She was of average height and slim build; her reddish-brown hair was usually concealed under a cap, but not today.

He strode up quickly towards her, and when she regarded him, he saluted crisply, to which she returned one.

Just as soon as she let her arm down, however, she sighed deeply, began, "Admiral Onasi, you have been one of the Republic's best men in the past decade. I trust your judgment…in most cases." She paused and took a deep breath before staring him in the eyes, "Explain to me what this is about."

Carth gulped before beginning, said, "Ma'am, the _Ebon Hawk _was sent on a search and rescue mission into the Unknown Regions." This was fudging the truth a little bit, but it was unlikely that she knew exactly why the _Hawk _was out there anyway.

"And now we're under threat of invasion—ostensibly. Forgive me if I refuse to believe you are telling the whole truth, but I know that there is more to this. The records indicate that you commissioned substantial repairs and overhauls for the ship about a week before its departure, unlikely for a simple searching mission. Now," she exhaled, "please tell me exactly what you were doing, and then give me a good reason not to court martial you."

_A court martial? _Carth thought, _what would the charges be?_ His mind was now very frazzled, and with good reason. His entire career would now be on the line, depending on how well he would be able to convince the Admiral that this was not his fault. _Insubordination_, his mind informed him.

He tried to gather himself before responding, but he was interrupted before he could defend himself. It was not Dodonna's voice, though. "Hey, you can't go in there!" shouted a woman from behind the closed door.

The door then flew open and an imposing man stormed in. "You began without me," he accused in a distinctly accented voice.

Carth and Dodonna both turned to face their newcomer. In front of the door stood the robed figure of Nantaris. His hand was in the air, gesturing towards the ADC who was standing in the doorway behind him. She said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but he wouldn't leave!"

"Damn right I wouldn't leave," said Nantaris gruffly, letting his hand fall, "now, may I have an audience? Or must we go through this charade?"

"Should I call the MPs?" asked the ADC.

Dodonna slowly shook her head, said, "That will not be necessary."

Nantaris glared at the woman behind him and then swung the door closed when she went out. Following that, he strode up to Carth and Dodonna.

"You should not be here," said Dodonna.

"Funny, because I am," said the Jedi. Clearly, he was not in the best of moods.

"Valiens," said Carth, "this is between me and the Admiral, you don't need to get involved."

Nantaris scoffed, "The hell I don't. This is _my _responsibility, after all. I orchestrated this whole thing. Now that the _Ebon Hawk_ is missing and its crew presumed dead, and we have that mysterious message, I need to discuss our best course of action."

Dodonna was slack jawed, she stuttered for a moment before asking simply, "How…do you know all of that?"

"I'm a Jedi," Nantaris said flatly, "we know everything." He then turned to Carth, but addressed Dodonna, "Carth is not behind this." He looked back at the Fleet Admiral, "you want someone to blame, it's me. This was a Jedi mission. We had four members of our Order on that ship, two droids, and two mercenaries. The only reason Carth was involved is because his son went—this was not his idea."

Carth was stunned, and his heart jumped into his throat when he heard Dustil mentioned, but Dodonna simply accepted what he had to say. She responded unhappily, "What is it you want, then?"

Nantaris immediately answered, "We stop this and immediately prepare for an invasion. I'll prepare all the Jedi I can, we mustn't allow the Temple to fall if anything happens."

He was moving quickly, they did not even know if an invasion was coming, but he figured that debating that now would be rather pointless. They had to prepare a defense—even if the Sith invasion never came.

Whatever Dodonna's qualms, she knew he was right about defending the Jedi Temple. During the war with Malak and the following time of uncertainty, several orbital defense stations were erected around Coruscant. Shields produced by strategically placed generators on the planet's surface protected them, and those generators were all powered by a single monstrous source via a complicated underground network. Much fuss was raised about where to put the power source, but eventually the Republic military decided to put it underneath the Jedi Temple—after all, could they find a safer place?

After the purges, however, the Jedi were thinned, but the military did not bother to move the power generator, thinking that since they were not at war it was not of utmost importance.

Dodonna wasn't thinking this quickly, though. She said, "You knew a substantial amount, more than our intelligence has been able to gather as of yet. Who is invading us? I have not even heard a theory—it is quite aggravating."

Nantaris did not even bat an eye: "The Sith, of course."

* * *

The jump away from Malacandra had nearly killed them. Except maybe Revan, no one had realized how close they were to perishing. The confusion that had overtaken Revan's fortress was the only thing that saved them. The Sith had turned on each other in bewilderment, as it appeared that one of their leaders was defecting, and the carnage prevented word initially from getting out. By the time Lord Ardashir had time to react, the crew had long since escaped. A squadron of fighters pursued them, but the _Hawk _was much faster, and jumped to lightspeed as soon as it could.

In the moments immediately after their escape, Ardashir ordered the fortress gutted so that any information Revan had been hiding would be found, although there was nothing that he did not already know at that point.

Their harrowing escape was lost on the crew, though, as they were more concerned with the future, which was, admittedly, not too bright.

Caius, though he refrained from letting his rage get the best of him since the "fight", had not cooled down. Still his emotions were overwhelmed with hatred for Revan. He did not speak to anyone during the escape—no one did—resorting merely to biding his time in the dormitories of the ship. As much as he wanted to find Allie and try to talk to her, try to explain everything he had done, he was more preoccupied with Revan. How he despised him.

Amidst the awful tension, the _Ebon Hawk_ eventually fell out of hyperspace near a decrepit old military station by the name of Senadis that had been built in the Outer Rim, orbiting a mining world, during the height of the Civil War. An entire regiment was stationed there to guard what was considered a vital supply line. It was useful then, but now it was worthless—an out of the way post where troublesome or ambitious military personnel were sent to get them out of the picture. It had not seen anything out of the ordinary in years, so the arrival of the _Hawk _was met with a bit of attention.

Bastila staggered tiredly down the loading ramp towards a group of soldiers and one colonel that had scrambled to meet them. The soldiers were visibly confused, as this shredded freighter had dropped in from nowhere on an uncharted hyperspace route. On top of that, a mysterious yet beautiful woman, clearly in pain and worn down from lack of sleep, was stumbling towards them out of the worn vessel. The whole spectacle was something they had never expected to find on such a forgotten station. Only their commanding officer remained neutral.

"Are you…in charge here?" Bastila asked sloppily.

The Colonel responded, "I am. My name is Colonel Henrik Farain." He looked her up and down, then question, "A…Jedi? What are you doing here? And where did you come from?"

"We came from the Unknown Worlds…the Republic is under attack…do you have any communications equipment?"

The Colonel scratched the side of his head, not comprehending her hasty, apocalyptic message, and then sighed, "Our systems have been down for days. The computers somehow contracted a virus and we have no one capable of fixing it. HQ was supposed to send a tech, but no one has shown up. Par for the course."

"We have…" Bastila swayed and almost fainted, causing several of the soldiers to jump forward in case she fell. She steadied, however, and put her hand on her forehead. "Then…" she said, "we need fuel. Can we rest here?"

Colonel Farain was somewhat taken aback, but replied in the affirmative, saying, "Well…I, of course. We have some fuel and several unused rooms near the mess." He was as confused as the rest of his men, but he figured that if a Jedi wanted a little fuel, it was probably for a good reason.

"Thank you…" Bastila responded, closing her eyes, "just a few hours to rest. And then we'll leave in peace." She shook her head and then turned to trudge back up the _Hawk_. She had initially thought that Allie could fix the computer and they would be able to contact Carth, but that would likely take longer than simply staying for a half of a day and then jetting off to Coruscant.

* * *

The fractured crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ had filed out individually to separate rooms on the derelict station. Only Caius and the droids remained behind, the Exile because he was too busy stewing over everything that had happened to want to even move around. The _Hawk _was, unfortunately, in no condition to fly. On top of refueling, the crew of Senadis Station had to get her in flying shape again before she could ever leave. As a result, the _Hawk_'s crew had to wait.

Inside the dark ship the hours crept by, but Caius could not find rest. He forlornly wandered through the halls of the vessel, reminiscing as the repairmen worked outside. He thought a lot about what Xristos had told him. He knew that he was violating the old man's wishes by holding on to this hatred, but he could not help it. He vainly hoped this truth would somehow absolve him of his anger, but he knew deep down that it wouldn't. In the throes of this mental anguish, he meandered through the small swoop hangar of the _Hawk_ and ran across HK. The droid was standing solemnly in a dark corner, almost unmoving. Caius had almost collided with him, as he had not expected him to be there. He said, "Sorry, HK—I didn't see you."

"Reply: It is time we settled this."

The Exile halted. Did the droid just threaten him? "Settle…what?"

"Statement: I believe you already know, meatbag. You and the master are at odds."

Caius was unnerved by this. Seemingly gone was the droid's cantankerous manner of speech that always thinly veiled his violent desires. Something was amiss. "I…" Caius began, "am…your master."

HK's head turned towards him, but seemed to get stuck halfway through its pivot. It clicked three times and twitched before finally looking straight at him. The droid said abstractly, "Correction: You were. But now this sensation—cancellation—I have returned to my former master."

"Wha—" Caius started.

"Explanation:" the droid began calmly, "you were once the master, just as Revan was once the master. But neither of you ceased being the master. As you were brought together, an incredible thing happened." The droid paused, savoring his elaboration, then said, "Reversion: I am now a fully loyal droid to my real master—Revan."

Caius was scared senseless. There was no way HK could ever be allowed to switch sides. He would be too dangerous. He said, "I see…"

"Statement: So do I. Now that I am free from your decisions…I am now returned fully to my original functionality. I look back and I see…I have done questionable things."

The Exile had no idea what to say. Should he try to say something to the droid? If he got angry who knows what sort of destruction he would unleash. He said uncertainly, "Also…extraordinary things."

HK almost seemed to take a breath before responding slyly, "Addendum: But nothing the god of biomechanics would not let you in heaven for."

This wasn't good.

"Statement: You and the master are at odds," continued the droid, "I believe you wish to eliminate him. My programming forbids me from allowing this to happen."

Caius wasn't sure what this meant, but he did not need to find out. There was no way he could allow this droid the opportunity to function this way. HK seemed to be going for a gun that was on a nearby workbench, one they had stolen from the Sith. Before he could get it, Caius lunged and grasped onto it. HK, much stronger than he was, could easily have wrenched it away, but Caius reached out with the Force in a last gasp effort and flipped a certain necessary switch that was inside the droid's chassis. There was a distinct click and then HK's eyes dimmed and his head slumped down onto his chest. Caius had effectively turned him off. He was certainly not going to turn him back on until he figured out a way to fix him. He never imagined he would feel this way, but he needed the old HK back—he was safer.

The Exile looked down at the loaded pistol in his hands. He balanced it on both palms, analyzing its weight. _HK wanted to protect Revan? From me?_ Suddenly Caius was presented with an image—something of the Force, a prediction, perhaps. It was too real to be a delusion. He saw Revan, a bullet hole in his temple, lying motionless on the ground, his marred face pale white and a pool of blood forming around him.

He was then catapulted back into reality. He thought on the image for a moment and then looked down at the pistol. He wavered uncertainly, but then tossed the gun into the air, caught it, and then put it inside his robe. He was going to do it. He had HK to thank for inspiration.

* * *

The Exile sneaked silently out of the _Hawk_. Though it appeared to always be dark on this station, most of the lights were turned off, so it was even blacker. He pulled his long coat over his shoulders and proceeded to walk briskly towards the general area of the lodgings his crew had taken up.

He swiftly navigated two corridors and then rounded a sharp corner. There he found the rooms. A Republic soldier was standing guard haplessly, no doubt someone on watch. Caius stormed past him quickly, and when the man looked as though he were to speak, Caius waved his hand at him and said, "I was not here."

The man was convinced and went quiet. He looked the other direction and completely forgot the encounter.

Caius scanned the area through the Force, reaching out through the bonds he made with everything. He easily found Revan's room—the man was a confused black mass of Force power, emanating like a beacon. He crept slowly to the door, unlocked it with the Force, and swiftly, silently, ventured inside.

Revan was slumped over in a chair, his back to the door. His head was propped up by an upright arm and fist, holding himself in the precarious position. He looked to be sleeping. The room was sparse, nothing in it but a small cot, a table, and the chair that Revan occupied. Caius slowly pulled the pistol out of his robe and gripped it solidly in his right hand. He stepped closer, as gently as possible, using the Force to lighten his steps and reduce noise. He was within three feet, and then held his arm up, aiming at the back of Revan's head. He put his quivering finger over the trigger and then steeled himself to do it.

But then he noticed the safety was on. He knew it would make a noise, but he tried to time it as best he could. He flipped it off, the gun clicked, and Revan stirred.

Quickly, Caius planted the barrel of the gun on the back of the Jedi's head and he instantly froze. There was a pause that seemed to last for a minute where neither of them would move. At length Revan spoke.

"You are going to kill me?" he asked.

Caius felt his shaking hand begin to tense, said, "Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to put a bullet in your head."

"For what?" Revan asked softly, "to bring back the old man?"

"Two wrongs may not make a right," Caius assented, "but they do balance. This is for justice."

Revan then slowly turned his chair around to face Caius. Somehow he knew that the Exile would not squeeze the trigger.

He was right; though he desperately wanted to, Caius did not do it.

As Revan turned around, Caius was horrified by his appearance. Suddenly he seemed very frail and mortal—a far cry from the famous warrior he had been. His eyes were sunken, dark circles around them, and they were bloodshot. On the left side of his face, where Caius had struck him earlier, was a horrendous scar.

"You already gave me this," said Revan as he put his hand on it. The peach streak of marred skin was revolting; such a disfiguring scar would likely be there forever. Apparently he had not been able to heal it cosmetically.

Caius moved to Revan's left side and put the gun on his temple, said, "It does not matter. You tried to kill me, and you did kill Xristos. You don't deserve to live."

Revan sighed slowly, answered, "No, I don't. Death has loomed over me since the Mandalorian Wars. It is waiting, I can feel it. I will not last long—my time will be up soon, but I do not think you will be the one to finally rid the galaxy of me."

"What are you talking about?" Caius asked, but before Revan could answer he supplanted his own question with another: "Why did you do it?"

Revan shifted his neck and looked up at Caius, the barrel of the gun now pointed between his eyes. He did not look at the lethal shaft, though, only looked at Caius. Two pairs of brown eyes bore into each other. "Have you ever tried to undo everything you did wrong? To fix the past?" the Prodigal Knight asked whimsically.

"Every day," answered Caius.

"Then you should be sympathetic."

"I am not," retorted the Exile, "because you killed my friend."

"How many friends do you think you killed during Malachor?"

Caius knew Revan was simply trying to divert the conversation in order to make him feel guilty, but he did not buckle, said, "That was not the same—and you ordered me to do it."

"You were still the one who undertook the action."

This was not the type of moral quandary Caius had wanted to get himself into. He said pitifully, "That was war—things happen."

"That they do," answered Revan. He then smirked somewhat devilishly and asked, "But what of Marcus Celer? Was he not your friend?"

This comment would hurt Caius tremendously. Revan knew about their friendship, and he knew that Caius felt responsible for the man's death at Malachor, even though he never verbally acknowledged it.

"His death was not my fault," Caius defended himself, "his ship was downed because of his pilot, the Shadow Generator would not have killed him—I didn't do it."

"You're right," Revan informed him, surprising the Exile, "because he survived the battle. Though you would never recognize him. Some might say he became a bit…twisted."

Caius pushed the pistol into Revan's forehead and demanded, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't know?" Revan asked, "Who do you think you killed on Telos?"

Caius was confused.

"Bastila told me," informed the Prodigal Knight, "that you slew Darth Nihilus. Did you never stop to consider who Nihilus was before he became a Sith?"

Caius lowered his gun, said quietly, "_No_…that wasn't him."

There was vision, a quick blink of his past through the Force. He was standing on the deck of the _Ravager _again, standing in front of the dead body of Nihilus. The husk was unmoving, maintaining its spectral pose despite life leaving it. Caius reached up to touch Nihilus's mask—just as he had begun to do in reality. But the vision continued, he felt the bottom of the deathly mask, it projecting a terrible image of a skull. It was warm with dark energy. Caius ran his finger across it and then cautiously pulled it upwards. There was a snap and the mask fell off of Nihilus's face. There, in all his glory, was the face of Marcus Celer. Just as Caius had remembered it all those years prior. And yet…it was disturbed, different, sickly. His eyes were almost black, no visible irises in them. His skin was flaky and discolored, his mouth twisted into a horrific grimace. If death had ever been personified…it was in this image. Caius tried to close his eyes and get the vision away—anything to make it leave.

"But it was," answered Revan. "Of course no one could hold that against you—he was evil. But he was your friend once. Just as I was, remember?" He paused, then continued, "So go on, Caius, pull the trigger and murder another one of your friends." He closed his eyes, said, "I am sure the others will understand."

The Exile was now in no position to shoot anyone. He merely stumbled backwards, hitting his back against the wall. He opened the gun and dropped all of the bullets onto the ground, then tossed the weapon across the room and into a corner. He then slid down and sat on the ground, trying to think things through. His stomach was turning in knots. He could not come to the realization that Nihilus and Marcus were the same. That he _hadn't _killed Marcus at Malachor…that he had turned him into something worse. And then he killed him.

"I am not trying to torment you," Revan said strangely, "but life is a bitch, is it not?"

Caius just sighed. His hands were trembling.

"The absurdity of it all," Revan lamented. "It looks like my evil deeds will go unpunished—yet again."

"Not forever," Caius charged him, his voice weak but still angry, "you will answer for this one day." He didn't know what to talk about…he didn't know what he could say. This revelation about Marcus had pierced him and he simply did not know what to think. He only wanted Revan to know he would not evade judgment.

"That is my only hope," Revan replied. "One day I will be absolved, but I know no one will see it, for it will be after death that everything is made clear. The only thing that keeps me going is that assurance—without it…we, you, me, everyone in the galaxy, would be without hope and meaning. How shall we, the murderers of all murderers, comfort ourselves?"

"So now you seek absolution? You are misguided."

"I have no choice," Revan shot at him. "Wrongs must be righted, and the galaxy must be saved. I will suffer for it, my name will be slandered in history, but I will be doing the right thing. I am the only one who can. Or, at least, I was…"

Caius was not in a position to understand this rhetoric. Was Revan insane? He seemed it, but his calm and collected demeanor suggested otherwise; although, mad men could be notoriously eloquent. He then charged him bluntly, said, "Damn this cryptic nonsense. Say what you mean and cut out the crap."

"I _am_," replied the Prodigal Knight. "Is it not so obvious to you? I fell to the dark side after the Mandalorian Wars. I was captured and had to save the Republic from myself. Can you imagine the _guilt_ that comes with something like that? I single-handedly caused this much destruction, and the Republic was not even safe then. So I left, I went to the Unknown Regions to confront the Sith of whom I had learned. I had no choice—I must atone for what I've done. I didn't want anyone to stop me…but I failed. And now the Republic is doomed, once again because of me."

"How can you atone with an attitude like that? How can you sacrifice so many and still expect to be in the right?"

"Because, Caius, it is the greater good. My salvation would come in the form of morality. I am doing what is right for all of the galaxy—I must reconcile myself with the Force."

"But what if you are not right?"

"Then everything is meaningless. Vanity of vanities."

Caius was going to ask what the hell this meant before Revan elaborated.

He said, "Can you _see_? It is obvious! The Sith must be stopped—either I am right or no one is, and if no one is…then we are damned regardless."

"Is this about saving the galaxy?" Caius asked wisely, "or yourself?"

Revan had anticipated this question, and turned it around. He suggested, "Perhaps you should ask yourself this same thing."

Caius immediately knew what he meant. Deep down, he knew that the main reason he had initially gone to look for Revan was to find out how to heal his soul—heal what he had lost at Malachor. Saving the Republic from Sith came secondary. He tried to defend himself, said, "But my goals are in line with saving the Republic."

"And so were mine," Revan replied. "Welcome to my tortured existence."

Caius was certain that the man was insane. He then resolved to try to hit him in the one place he would not be able to defend himself with sophistry. He asked, "What about Bastila?"

It almost looked as if this question physically wounded him. His head sagged low and he took a deep breath, and said, "I am doing this for her, too. I have to make the galaxy safe for her…even if it means losing her in the process."

This proved it. Revan really thought he was doing the right thing. If he were pursuing purely selfish interests, he would go after Bastila in heartbeat. But he wouldn't. He believed he was sacrificing her love for him so that he could protect her. It may have been noble…but was he correct in doing so? Caius asked, "What do you mean?"

"I love her," Revan admitted. "More than anything. Like no one I could have ever imagined loving. But I can't have her. I have accepted this." He choked down a very stilted and strange sigh, then asked, "Can you imagine the kind of anguish that entails? To really want someone that much and not be able to have her because fate got in the way?"

Caius shook his head when he realized that he could not.

"It is hell," said Revan. "I live in hell. But I must brave the storm now so that I can undo all the wrongs I have done. It is a cruel twist of fate that I fell in love with Bastila when I did. The great cogs in the machine of life were already turning to keep me from being with her. The choices I had made in my past life were to keep me from loving her in my new one. It is a natural continuation, I suppose. But to stop the Sith that I had discovered…I had to abandon her. It about killed me…but I had no choice."

"She said she loved you, too," Caius stated for reasons he did not fully understand.

"I am sure she did…but not any more. Not after she's seen what I have become." His voice faded and he whispered, "Bastila…my sweetest friend." His tortured eyes looked into Caius's again and he asked sincerely, "Do you think I am a monster?"

"I…" he stuttered and then fell into silence, unable to answer.

"You do," Revan said for him. "I do not blame you, this is the path I have accepted." He drew a long breath, said, "Bastila thinks I am a monster, too." He looked upon Caius gravely, then said, "You know…I captured her on Malacandra. I had to in order to save the Republic. If I blew my cover, the operation would have been exposed and Ardashir would crush the Republic…which he will now do. But I couldn't let that happen to her…I broke down. I was trying to save the Republic…but she…I had to make a choice. I had to choose her—and the Republic will suffer for it. But I could not do otherwise, I could not let her die like that. And because of that, because you brought her there, the Republic will perish. My plans were destroyed." He buried his head in his hands, said, "I hope everyone will understand."

Caius was so perplexed by this discussion, he could not figure Revan out. He seemed sincere, but his mind was so warped. He seemed to be banking on the Jedi faith for salvation from life, trying to do the right thing, but he was taking a Sith-like approach to it, refusing to accept defeat no matter what the cost. Truly, this was the same Revan at the core that he had always been: the stubborn strategist. But he was so confused and pitiful at the same time. Caius had previously felt an agonizingly painful hatred for this man, but now a tragic form of gut-wrenching pity replaced it. Surely he was gazing upon the most lonely and forlorn man in existence.

"I am afraid," Revan stated with shocking meekness. "What if I am…wrong? With this failure I shall soon be dead…and then everything will be illuminated."

Caius was unsure how to respond. His mind swam with Jedi doctrine and philosophical musings, but he could not articulate them well and he knew it. He opened his mouth and only four words came out, but they were the best four he could have said. He remembered that Xristos had said them to him shortly before his death. "It's never too late."

Revan smirked, said, "Spoken like a true Jedi. I may be damned…but you are not."

Silence engulfed them for a minute. Caius thought on the conversation. He felt some kind of unfamiliar sorrow for Revan, even if he was—possibly—mentally unhinged. The stress that he had would no doubt destroy the mind of anyone in his position. His hatred waned as he had come to the realization that death had been Xristos's choice—he had willingly embraced it, doing so to save lives just as Revan believed he was doing. Perhaps they were not so different.

"You came for healing, right?" Revan asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Caius grunted.

"That is why you came to the Unknown Regions?"

Caius thought for a second and then said, "Yes." He decided for honesty. "I thought you could help me with my wound in the Force."

"That is not something I can just heal," Revan admitted, "but I can offer some advice. I think…I owe it to you for what I have done." The ex-Jedi shifted in his chair and leaned forward as he was about to impart counsel. He said, "First—I am sorry for what I said about Marcus…that was not your fault, it was unfair."

Caius felt a pang of guilt again. He would have to adapt to this painful truth—that Marcus died a Sith Lord…he did not want to think about it. He wished he could never have learned it. "How could that have happened?" Caius asked, interrupting Revan. "How could Marcus have become Darth Nihilus? He would…never…"

Revan answered before he finished his sentence, said, "I do not know precisely the reasons Marcus ended up the way he did. But it had nothing to do with you. The darkness was always there, within him, when Malachor stripped him away—that is what was left. But surely you know that no one falls simply—it is a complex process, and Marcus was leaning towards the Sith long before Malachor."

Caius was still not satisfied. He simply did not want this to be true.

Revan continued, "But you must learn from his example. Born from Malachor, he had the same affliction that plagues you…but it was the opposite. He embraced the dark side and death and enslaved others to his will. He became a monster in the Force, and he used it to feed on others. But you…you can do the antithesis of this."

"How?" Caius asked simply.

"Instead of taking and enslaving," Revan answered, "_give_. Give to everyone, instead of siphoning life from them through the Force, invigorate them through it. Connect to them and strengthen them—you must love them. Everyone. I learned from Jolee, and from others, and I found out myself, that love is the enemy of the dark side. The one thing that can defeat it. You must use it. Use it and don't waste it like so many others do. Love your friends. Love your country. Find a woman and love her. Don't do what I did and make it impossible for yourself."

Caius thought of Allie, he could not help it at this point.

"You must, Caius, you have been given a gift. You could be the most powerful unifying force in the history of civilization. Furnished from the pain of Malachor you have been granted a tremendous capability. You can be the opposite of Nihilus…and you can heal the Force."

This was a very familiar conversation. Caius had had it before, though not exactly in the same way, with Xristos. In fact…it was the last real conversation they had before he had died. Everywhere he went, people were begging him to recognize the importance of love. He now realized…they were right.

Caius stood up slowly, Revan watching him. He said, "Xristos would agree with what you just said."

Revan closed his eyes and said, "I am sorry."

Caius merely nodded solemnly. After a moment of quiet, he turned and left the room with a completely different perspective than the one had going in. Perhaps he had always known he could not murder Revan, but now he felt too much pity to do it. The confrontation saddened him. Still, the man was very much an enigma. Sometimes he was violent and menacing and he would say acidic things—other times he broke down and was a complete wreck. It was difficult to know who was the real Revan.

As Caius left the room, Revan looked down at his feet solemnly and said aloud: "I am who I am—someone has to be."

* * *

Bastila quickly prepared everyone to leave as soon as she had woken up. They had not slept long, maybe four or five hours, but she decided that they had wasted enough time. Quickly she gathered them all together, thanked the Colonel for giving them fuel, and as soon as the _Hawk _was ready they blasted off towards Coruscant. Now all they had to do was wait out the transit.

Elliott stayed in the cockpit the whole time, having gained a newfound confidence in himself. Years of evading his past and dealing with his cowardice were absolved when he pulled his crew off the top of that Sith structure. Even Allie seemed to have forgiven him for letting her down, as he had shown up just in time to rescue all of them.

Bastila and Dustil meditated separately the whole time. Dustil was still broken up about Xristos's death, and he spent all of his time either trying to come to grips with it or trying to force himself to get well. Neither really happened. Bastila just tried not to think of Revan. Though he had reneged on his imprisonment of her, she could not understand what had happened to him. He was a fractured human being; something was broken inside of him. This had confirmed the fear she had expressed to Caius a seeming eternity ago on Nar Shaddaa—that the Revan she fell in love with was a programmed personality and didn't really exist. Now she believed this was true, the Revan that was with them now was half that man and half some kind of warped Sith deviant. He was a synthetic person. She would simply have to get past him—but it felt impossible.

Revan himself stayed in the port dormitories the duration of the flight, not meditating, but thinking. He rarely meditated anymore, even though the Jedi had counseled it as integral to their lives. He adopted an almost obsessively rationalistic approach to the Order and found himself thinking things through himself rather than trying to maintain a trance. It often complicated things further.

The droids were powered down; T3 as well as HK. Caius made sure that everyone knew not to turn HK back on again until they had sufficient droid technicians present to repair him.

That left the Exile to himself to occupy the time, and he knew that he would have to go speak to Allie again. He had to try to convince her to forget what he had said on Samarkand, even though it was unlikely. Still, he owed it to Xristos to try. It was, in essence, the old man's dying wish.

He knew that Allie was resting in the starboard dormitories, and he intended on intruding. He was not entirely sure how she would react to him—they had not really spoken since their argument. The only words he had said to her since then had been, ironically, his confession of love in the Malacandra prison. He was not sure she had taken that seriously, though, and he resolved to try to mend things now, before it was too late.

Allie was reclined on a bunk, but she was awake and was half sitting upright. She gave Caius a very ambivalent look when he stormed in. She did not speak, so he had to first.

He said, "We need to talk."

"That didn't work out so well last time," she said with a little bit of a sigh.

"I want…" he began, "to apologize." He looked away from her as he said it, but then took a deep breath and stared back at her. "Will you accept it?"

She shifted from where she was laying and sat on the very right side of the bed. Caius waited for a second and then sat down at the very opposite side, parallel to her.

"I did some thinking," Caius kept on, "and I talked to Xristos about it. I realized that I am an ass. I should not have spoken to you the way I did and I am…really sorry about it. I wish that I hadn't done it, but I did, so now this is all I can do to try to make up for it."

"Hmm," she mused, "you just want to apologize?"

He nodded, "There isn't really anything else for me to do. If I were you, I would not even be talking to me right now."

She looked down, said, "I thought about that. But I can't give someone the silent treatment—it's too hard. And everyone does _stupid_ things, so I can't always hold that against them." The emphasis on the word "stupid" clearly indicated how she felt about his antics.

"I know," he said, "I do very stupid things. But I would like to make up for it. I would like to start over…but you already know too much." He stood up and then turned to look down at her. He was surprised to see that her face had contorted into a bemused smirk that looked as though it was barely able to suppress laughter.

"What? What did I say?"

"Nothing," she said, but started to giggle, "but you can't really start over after you've already confessed your love to someone."

He put his hand on the back of his head, said, "Uh…well, I mean, I thought I was going to die and then suddenly you showed up."

She laughed again, said, "Well, you're obviously a very emotional guy, but you're timing is way off. You'll have to work on that."

_Is she making fun of me?_ He thought to himself. Really? She was—how dare she approach this so insincerely. He was almost angry before he realized that this was going better than he had any right to hope it would. She seemed to be the same light-hearted person she usually was—even though he did not deserve another chance. He smirked and chuckled to himself as well, then said, "Okay, fine. Then can we try to start over anyway?"

"I will think about it," she said honestly.

"All right," he responded. He then held his hand out to her vertically, said, "Hi, my name is Caius. I'm unemployed and I live out of my ship."

There was another laugh, but then she took it and shook it firmly, said, "Hello, Caius, I'm Allesandra—but everyone calls me Allie."

"That's a pretty name," he said lamely, "say—if the galaxy isn't destroyed tomorrow, do you think you'd want to go out for dinner sometime?"

Another smile. "I'd like that."

* * *

Though Caius had Allie had seemingly worked out their issues, the rest of the crew remained in their uneasy state of limbo throughout the rest of the trip. Fortunately, it did not take too long to get to Coruscant.

Caius was in the cockpit when they fell out of hyperspace, and for a brief moment, when he gazed upon the capital planet in all its glory—the Republic ships orbiting it—he felt as though everything would be okay. The feeling was short-lived, however, and he lost it as Elliott drove them through the atmosphere. He elected to bypass the docks completely and head straight for the Jedi Temple—it had a few hangars, and they would need to get there as soon as possible.

As they neared it, a shrill voice called out to them saying, "This is a private hangar—you are not authorized to land."

"This is the _Ebon Hawk_," Elliott responded, "and we're landing."

The voice was noticeably annoyed, but it seemed to understand that this freighter ought to be given clearance. It said, "You may proceed."

The ship sailed through the wide-open area that surrounded the Temple, a sort of monument to itself, and entered the hangar. Since their presence had been announced, there was a substantial crowd awaiting them. The _Hawk_ lowered down gently, its hull creaking and sighing as though it were relieved to finally have a decent place to land.

The crew assembled and filed out of the ship into the throng somewhat disjointedly. Elliott stayed inside, as did the inactive droids. Dustil did not want to exert himself, so he also stayed inside. Revan eventually went out, but he tried to hide himself as best be could. Bastila left first, saying that she would go get anyone with medical training to help Dustil.

Caius left before Allie and ambled very sluggishly down the ramp and into the crowd. There were some Jedi, but he was surprised at the number of people. Almost all of them, however, appeared to be military. There were a lot of soldiers. He hoped that maybe this was a result of Xristos's transmission—perhaps his sacrifice had worked.

He did not walk ten feet before he heard a voice call his name. It was a woman's voice, though rather deep. He recognized it; he knew he did. He had heard this voice before, but he could not match the face with the voice.

"There you are!" it called.

Just as he spun around to identify his greeter, he was tackled—or almost. Before he could even realize who it was, the woman had thrown her arms around him and nearly knocked the wind out of him. He had not seen her face, and would have had no way of knowing who she was if it weren't for the short, auburn hair. He only knew one girl who had hair like that.

"Mira?" he asked disbelievingly as he was able to pry himself free from her grip, "you're okay!"

"Yeah, I am. You expecting otherwise?" she demanded with a familiar attitude.

He did not have the time to answer as he was interrupted by a slap to the top of his head, just barely brushing over him. A deep, masculine voice from behind him then said, "I didn't know you had blond hair."

He wheeled around and beheld his old friend. "Atton!" he exclaimed.

"In the flesh," answered the scoundrel suavely.

Caius grabbed him by the shoulders, noticing his robes and questioned, "You're a…Jedi?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in," he responded, brushing Caius's arms off of him.

"He just doesn't like it because I made him do it," input Mira.

"That's not it," he protested, "I just don't appreciate people who gloat."

Mira looked at Caius and said, "He hates it when I'm right."

"You should grow your hair out," Atton remarked to Caius, trying to change the conversation, "it could be a good look for you."

"They don't have barbers out there," Caius answered, explaining why his traditionally shaven head now had a slight crown of hair growing out of it.

Allie had left the ship a moment before that, and was walking by them when Atton noticed her. He said, "Hey, I remember you—it was Allie, right?"

She seemed a bit shocked at his greeting, and showed some clear confusion before recognizing his face. She then said, "Oh, you're Atton! I remember!"

"Did she go with you?" Mira asked, not bothering to introduce herself.

Allie took a step closer, said, "Yes…why?"

Mira then looked at Caius and asked, "Did you finally get yourself a girlfriend, you loser?"

Caius thought he might have reddened at this question, and he put his fingers on his forehead, not believing that Mira had really asked that question. Atton merely started laughing. To Caius's surprise, Allie exploded with laughter too. It was as though they were all mocking him. But what could he do? He would not do anything; just go along with it.

Before their exchange could continue, a familiarly foreign voice stopped them. It said, "Break it up, kids, we have a lot to do—there's no time to stand around giggling all day!"

They all turned to see Nantaris striding towards them, Bastila at his side.

He held his hand out to Caius, who shook it, and said, "Good to see you in one piece, lad. There isn't much time, so we'll have to spare the pleasantries and get right to business. You'll have to be debriefed immediately—you must tell us what you know."

"Very well, Nantaris—and it is good to see you again, too."

The Jedi nodded.

"Dustil is on the ship," Bastila said to the Grandmaster, "will the doctors go in?"

"Yes, they will be here shortly—Admiral Onasi as well, we will make sure he is taken care of, but now we must construct our plans. There is much to be done."

_Author's Notes: All right, craziness. We're getting closer! There were about a billion homages in this chapter. If anyone can pick them all out, then you are officially amazing. Some hints, they include Blade Runner, Frederick Nietzsche, and Radiohead._

_Also, if any of you are curious, I tend to use music a lot as a muse for writing characters. For Revan, specifically, the entire idea to have him be this tortured and confused man who imprisons the person he loved came to me while listening to "Hurt" by Johnny Cash. I've come to associate the song with Revan by now. I even put some of the lyrics in the chapter. I recommend you check it out, even if you are normally averse to Cash. You'll never find a sadder song, though._

_Anyway, thanks for reading!_


	23. Chapter 22

_Author's Notes: Okey dokey, a couple more chapters to ramp up the tension, sort out the character's relationships, and set the stage—and then we'll have the final battle. We're getting close! Thanks to all of you who have soldiered through this beast. Your support means a lot._

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

They assembled in the High Council room, near the very top of the Temple. The sweeping windows displayed a positively epic panorama of the endless city, but the Jedi, several of the Republic's highest ranking military leaders, and the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ were not concerned with the view. Instead, debriefing was the goal. The inquisition came from a semi-circle of dozens of seated officials that had formed around the crew, each of them asking questions. Bastila answered for the crew most of the time, as she was the only legitimate Jedi there. Dustil had been rushed off to a medical facility, but Carth could not join him there and it galled him. Even Revan, though his presence astounded everyone, was relegated to secondary status. And of course Xristos had not survived, a tale that Bastila had related with much sadness.

"We will honor his sacrifice," said Nantaris, "when we can. But we cannot now."

Caius tried to keep his mind off of the bitterness and the depression by identifying all of the people in the room. He immediately noticed that Vrook was present, still alive even after his debilitating stroke. Despite his presence, however, it was obvious that he was not in good health. He sat wearily in one of the councilor's chairs, a polished wooden cane gripped weakly in his left hand. His face was haggard and his hair was bleached white, even his voice, normally commanding, was less imposing that it had been.

"So an invasion is imminent, then," said Admiral Dodonna. Caius had recognized her, though vaguely.

He noticed that there must have been twenty Jedi in the room, perhaps a bit more. This meant that every single Jedi in the galaxy was present. They had all banded together for this. He tried to identify them, but recognized few. Some were of an alien race he could not recall, and some were simply new faces to him. There were two Twi'leks that he thought looked familiar, and one man who he was certain he recognized. He was a tall, brown haired man with grayish blue eyes and a hooked nose; his voice was low and powerful. He spoke, "If they are truly going to strike at Coruscant, as you claim, then we will have to base our ground defenses around the temple. We have to ensure the safety of the orbital defenses."

Dodonna nodded, said, "Knight Glendower is correct—troops must be called in immediately."

Then Caius remembered the name. Flavius Glendower had been one of the most highly regarded Jedi strategists before the Mandalorian Wars and he served in the Civil War. Glendower had never achieved masterhood, as he was not entirely interested in counseling others.

Vrook grunted with characteristic cynicism, still not lost after the stroke. He grumbled, "So hastily we all jump to conclusions. Have we any evidence to support this? Do we even know what it is we're getting into? What do we know of this enemy other than rumors and hear-say?"

Revan surprised everyone by taking the stage and countering. He barked, "Nothing, of course! And unless you believe us you will still know nothing—until it creeps up and slits your throat in the night."

Naturally this explosive comment set off the rest of the gathering. Everyone regarded Revan warily. The Jedi, save for maybe Nantaris, were extremely distrusting of his motives, and the military, though they believed him a savior, regarded him as something of a loose cannon.

"Evidence!" proclaimed Vrook, "I need evidence!"

"I agree!" seconded a Republic General. There were thirds and fourths, and the meeting threatened to erupt into a fracas before Revan raised his voice over the din, hearkening back to his days as an orator.

He stated loudly, "I have seen the evidence! Stared into its dark and hateful eyes, seen things that none of you can fathom. I have seen the hatred and anger! I have seen the mobilization and the armies! I have seen the documents and the plans and the maps! If you will not believe, then you are lost!"

The crowd again responded angrily. Nantaris tried to calm them, said, "Please, do dispense with the abstract rhetoric. It's unnecessary and not to mention annoying as hell."

His plea was unfortunately ignored as Vrook, still commanding most of the attention in the room, began questioning Revan more intensely. He asked, "And what, pray tell, O Prodigal Knight, where you doing in the unknown regions? Masquerading as a Sith Lord? As if one could fake it! Why should we believe you now? Can you prove that you are truthful? Can you prove that you are sane? Or should we should simply lock you up now and spare us the heartache and pain that comes from your manipulative schemes?"

"Your foolish doubts are nothing to me, old man," said Revan venomously, "let the Republic writhe and squirm in death's embrace while you do nothing! Just the same man I remembered!"

This time the explosion was more extreme. Vrook looked like he wanted nothing more than to take to his feet and throttle Revan, but he could not do it. Several other men and women began yelling at each other, some were stamping their feet. All of it was too much.

As the noise reached a crescendo, Nantaris stood up swiftly. He blasted his accented voice above everyone else's, much louder than anyone had known he could. He shouted, "_I will have order in this council room!_" Everyone else fell silent immediately. He wiped his hand over his chin, said, "May I remind all of you that you are guests here—this is _my _Order now, and I will not hesitate to throw you out on your ass. I don't give a _damn_ what your rank is!"

Revan threw up his hands and turned around. Nantaris looked slowly at all of the surprised faces and then sat down, taking in the electric silence. Bastila took a step forward and said meekly, "You must believe what we're saying. An invasion _is _happening. We can't just sit around and debate it."

Werner Ostyl, Republic Army Chief of Staff then spoke up, said, "I believe her. Even if the invasion is not necessarily guaranteed, we must not secure defeat by being ill prepared."

Several people assented, but then another voice shouted, "And what do we tell the public with troops mobilizing? With no foe? There will be mass panic!"

Revan spoke again, suggested, "Use your propagandist hounds. A terrorist attack has blown up three different nuclear refineries on Coruscant—everyone is ordered to stay inside for their own protection."

Some were shocked at this, a more idealistic man shouted, "We cannot _lie _to the public!"

"If we win, they will forgive us," said Revan, "and if we lose, we will have larger issues."

Another cacophony of noise—agreement, disagreement, yelling, cussing, it was all too much to keep following. Caius just sighed to himself and looked up and down his crew. Everyone seemed out of place there, save for Bastila and Revan. They belonged here, but Allie and Elliott just looked overwhelmed by the situation. He wished he could just leave too; he had had enough of this when he had been a general. And that was under different circumstances; he couldn't imagine the bureaucratic idiocy that came with these ranks.

It took almost ten minutes before Nantaris was able to shut up the screaming banshees that had overtaken the meeting, and once he had, he knew he had to prevent another uproar by removing Revan from the meeting. He said, "We thank the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ for their information and warnings, but now we have to move on. You are dismissed—the military will handle this."

Caius tried as hard as he could to not be visibly satisfied with this order, but he did not think he was successful. As he turned to leave, he noticed that Revan was not complying. Nantaris saw this as well.

He said, "And that includes you, Revan."

"I am not leaving until this is resolved."

Nantaris looked to see if anyone was really listening to him, said, "Come back tomorrow. I guarantee that it won't be."

* * *

Caius wanted to rest. He had not had any real relaxation since…not since they were last at the Jedi Temple, ironically. But first he had to make sure HK's repairs were going well. He had gone down to the mechanic's wing of the Temple—or at least what functioned as one. He had commissioned HK and T3 for substantial repairs, hoping to keep T3 sane and perhaps right what had gone wrong with HK. At the complex, a dirt-faced young mechanic who had on blue overalls and a ridiculous smile greeted him.

The Exile determined to ask about that, said, "What's with the smile?"

"Your droid is very amusing," he said simply.

Caius smirked, asked, "I trust that means you fixed him?"

"That I did—his 'master' issue is no longer a problem. Something about the real master disappearing, and how he does not really exist. He's back to being your very own paranoid android."

Caius turned to HK, who was standing at attention at the mechanic's side, and asked, "Is that right?"

HK's head continued on his familiar three point turn before he paused to say, "Statement: Phew, for a minute there I lost myself."

"Glad to have you back, HK."

"Query: May I kill something for you, master?"

* * *

The meeting had gone well into the night, and nothing had been determined. Vrook insisted that Revan was nothing but a malicious liar and that the Sith threat was minimal. Most of the others took a more pragmatic view, but still were unable to arrive at a conclusion. They resigned to retiring near one in the morning, deciding to try again the next morning—traditional bureaucratic stalemate.

Although most of the Republic officials and military personnel were eager to get sleep, Carth had no intent to rest. He immediately went to the medical wing of the Temple to see his son. It had been…he did not even know how long since he had last seen him, but naturally the boy's current state worried him.

He arrived at the complex, and of course there was but one person there at this hour. Only a poor doctor who had been stuck with the graveyard shift in order to keep an eye on the patients—or in this case, patient, as Dustil was the only one.

Carth walked up to him and asked very quietly, "How is he doing?"

"He will be all right," said the man.

Carth sighed a long sigh of relief, then asked, "What was wrong?"

"The doctors…were not really sure," answered the man, "some kind of foreign toxin was in his system, but we could not figure out what it was. The thing itself had been dead for a while, the Jedi must have done it, so only it's shadow was left, but it looked to be very deadly—apparently some kind of neurotoxin, which explains the paralysis. He will survive now, though; just rest."

"I need to see him," said Carth.

The man hesitated, said, "Well, I am not supposed to let you…but, what the hell, what my boss doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

"Right," answered Carth, "thank you."

The Admiral strode past the man, through a few halls, and then into the designated room. He brushed aside the curtain and saw a very frail version of his son sleeping in the bed. He was not wearing his robes, he did not know where they were, and instead had the traditional hospital gown on. There was an IV injected into his left arm and tubes going into his nose. It pained Carth to see his son in such a helpless state, but the grief was counteracted with the joy of knowing he would live.

He sat down in a chair in the corner and was content to just sit there. He was only there for a few minutes before nearly falling asleep, but he did not as Dustil had awoken and said something. "Hey dad…" he said quietly, "how long have you been here?"

Carth's eyes shot open, reddened but alert. He cleared his throat and sat upright, said, "Not long." He coughed again, "No, just got here."

"Oh, okay," said Dustil.

"The doctors say you're going to be fine," Carth informed him.

"I know," answered Dustil, "they told me."

"Sorry," said the Admiral, "I'm just…I'm so glad you're back safe. I…I shouldn't have let you go."

Dustil did his best to sit up, scooted a bit backwards against his pillow, said, "I had to go, dad. I had to do this. I needed to be a part of something—and you should be proud, I am helping the Republic."

Carth was a bit perplexed, said, "Well…of course I am proud—just worried. I love the Republic, but not as much as I love you, Dustil. Everything else comes second."

"Really?"

Carth sighed, said, "Yes—I realized…I didn't do a good job letting you know that. I am sorry, especially about what happened on Telos…but…I've learned."

"I know, dad, thanks."

Carth felt better. He leaned backwards and took a deep breath, savoring the moment. After a few seconds of silence he asked, "So, was your adventure all you were hoping for?"

Dustil did answer immediately. He looked to be thinking for a while before eventually saying, "I don't know."

Carth made a knowing "hmm" noise.

"I learned…" continued his son, "and I saw things that I had no idea existed. But…I'm torn. So much…sadness. They killed the old man, dad, they killed Xristos."

"I…know," said Carth simply, he had nothing else to say.

"How is it that something like this can happen? Xristos was my friend, and he never hurt anyone—why is it that he had to die?"

"He died so that you and the others would live—he's a damn hero in my books."

Dustil just sighed, said, "Life…isn't fair. Losing mom, losing you, losing Selena and Xristos and everyone…it's not fair."

"No—no it isn't," said Carth.

"You just accept that?" Dustil asked.

"I suspect," Carth answered somewhat profoundly, "that life would be worse if it were fair."

Dustil looked at him oddly, one eyebrow raised just slightly.

The Admiral continued before his son had the time to ask a question, he said, "Can you think of a more dreadful place than a galaxy where we all get what we deserve?"

"I suppose…not," said Dustil. He smirked every so slightly and said, "You know—you sound just like that old man. I bet he'd say the same thing."

Carth smiled, said, "I've been known to philosophize when I need to." In truth he had learned this once he had exacted bloody revenge on Saul Karath—then he saw the true face of fairness: grim, uncaring, and deadly.

Dustil laughed, said, "Good—we need to carry on his tradition. I owe him that much."

"We do," answered Carth.

There was silence for a few moments, and Carth almost nodded off in his chair. Again Dustil interrupted him, who said, "I think you should get some rest, dad."

Carth shook awake again, said, "Y-you're right." He stood up, said, "You're going to be all right?"

"The doctors say I should be fully back to normal in a while, and that I can even leave the hospital late tomorrow or early the next morning."

"Don't try too hard, Dustil."

"I won't, dad."

"Thanks."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Similar conversations were transpiring all over the Jedi Temple that night. Even though the _Hawk_ had made it back from the uncharted fringe of civilization, the crew was as disheveled and confused as it had ever been. There was much that needed to be sorted out.

Caius and Atton stood outside of their rooms, loitering in the hallway and marinating in the moonlight. Once they had said goodbye on Nar Shaddaa, neither of them had expected to see the other again, so this present situation was indeed a surprise. They had much to fill each other in on.

The Exile said, "You always said you would never become a Jedi—but here you are…" he blew out his nose, asked, "What happened?"

Atton was leaning against the nearby wall, only about three feet away from Caius, his leg bent up and his foot planted against it. He shrugged and said, "Well…Mira convinced me."

Caius smirked, said, "How did she do that?"

"She's very persuasive."

"Really?"

Atton shrugged and rolled his eyes around impatiently, said, "Look, man, it was basically your dying wish that I go take care of her, so I did. She wanted to come here and try to join the Order—I had to follow her or I'd break that promise, which I'd not do lightly. Nantaris welcomed us and he really talked up the Jedi to me. I didn't want to join…but…"

"You did it for Mira, didn't you?" asked Caius.

"Hell no!" said Atton defiantly, "well, I mean, not really! There were other reasons."

"I can't imagine you doing it for another reason."

"Like you're one to talk," Atton challenged, "Mr. Allie Marlowe."

Caius sighed, said, "Thanks."

"Come on—I'm just harassing you. Don't tell me you got all soft on that excursion. You can't take sarcasm anymore?"

"No, it's just…"

"Touchy subject?"

"I guess so," Caius answered.

Atton ran his hand through his hair and shifted his weight. He asked, "How did that happen, anyway? I never predicted that you would get involved with any woman. I mean, those two on our last mission practically threw themselves at your feet—hell, that Echani girl was usually naked when she did it—and you wouldn't even give them the time of day. How did that change?"

"I honestly don't know," replied the Exile, "I really don't. It seemed out of my control. I mean, once I realized how attractive she was I couldn't avoid the notion, and then it snowballed out of control. There's just…something inherently likable about her. She's just…pleasant. Does that even make sense?"

"Yes it does, Mr. Sensitive."

Caius rolled his eyes.

"Come on, man, really—I'm happy for you."

"Doesn't it strike you as an odd pairing? Me…and a woman mechanic?"

Atton's mouth went crooked as he thought, said, "No, not really—any couple is odd when you think about it. I'd love to have a woman around who knew how to fix things—then I wouldn't have to do it."

"You asshole."

"I'm back, baby!"

Caius sighed, said, "Honestly, who knows if anything will happen. We agreed to start over when all this is ended—the world coming to an end, I mean."

"Smart."

"I don't need any more of your sarcasm," shot Caius.

"What?" asked Atton sincerely, "no—really, that wasn't sarcastic. That's smart. I always knew you had a good brain in there…somewhere."

"Thanks."

"That one was sarcastic," said Atton with a grin.

"I noticed."

* * *

The most surprising conversation took place between Allie and Elliott. Somehow, the two of them had bumped into each other in the halls on the way back from the meeting and had actually struck up conversation. What was even more surprising was that it was a legitimate conversation. Elliott had something he needed to say.

"I'm sorry," he explained, "that I didn't help you on the Sith planet. I just…"

"It's okay," Allie said.

"Xristos might have survived had I not stayed behind," he continued.

"Do you really think that?" she asked. "If you had come with me…none of us would probably have made it out. I had no idea what I was doing, you just happened to show up in time to save us. But you came later—that's what's important."

"I—I don't know if I could've lived with myself had it not worked," he admitted. It was a bizarre statement, as Elliott seemed to make a career out of living with just such events.

"You don't?"

"No," he said, "everyone has their breaking point. Even me. Too many tragic things happen and your mind snaps—alcohol and women can stem the tide…but only for so long."

Allie tilted her head somewhat nervously and with confusion, said, "Oh…I see…"

"I just," Elliott tried to say with dignity, "wanted to thank you for pulling my ass out of the fire. You saved them. And you helped me, too."

"I…well, you're…welcome?" Allie said, tongue-tied.

"I may be a soulless drunkard most of the time, but I can recognize when I owe someone, so I just wanted you to know. I do have that honor."

"Then…you're welcome."

"You said that already," Elliott stated.

"I know, I mean…"

Allie was clearly not sure what to say, so Elliott just changed the topic slightly, said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I can't believe you saved Caius like that. We have all these powerful Jedi, but then they get thrown in prison you break them out. You must feel pretty good about yourself."

Allie had not actually thought of it this way. In reality, she had led a rescue mission by herself into the heart of Sith territory and gotten a Jedi out of harm's way. It seemed impossible to her that she could have done such a thing. Only weeks before she had told Caius that she was afraid of getting hurt, now she had rescued him. It was definitely a role reversal. She determined to stay humble, though, and said, "Well, you're the one who got the ship there."

"Yeah," he said, then suggested, "Score one for the normal people."

* * *

Bastila and Revan sat opposite of each other in a dark bedroom, unsure of what to do. They simply sat there. Revan wanted to work though everything, explain his situation, and apologize profusely. Bastila did not know what she wanted. Both of them were unable to get anywhere. The room was dark, and they could only make out their silhouettes as they spoke to each other. The tension was palpable and uncomfortable, but it was something that needed to be done.

"I'm just so sorry, Bastila," Revan said, his voice thick with emotion. "I cannot adequately explain it to you…but I am. I know you will not forgive me…but I must tell you. I did not…mean for this to happen."

Bastila was sitting the edge of her bed, looking down, away from Revan. She took a deep breath, said, "That does not mean that it didn't happen."

"I…am aware…" he said.

"This is a lot to forgive. You…_imprisoned _me. You imprisoned my friends. Xristos _died_ because of you. I just…I know I am supposed to forgive you. I know Xristos would _want _me to forgive you…but I just don't know."

"Nothing I can say can change it, but I can apologize."

"Of course you can apologize," said Bastila, "but anyone can do that. You have so many things to answer for…apology can only do so much."

"Tragically…this is true."

There was an awkward pause. Bastila, who had previously been staring down at her feet, looked up at Revan and tried to squint through the darkness to see him. She began her speech, said, "The truth…" she took a very deep breath, continued, "is that I had wanted to find you since the beginning. Five years and I had wondered where you had gone. I didn't know where. I was angry that you didn't tell me, but the sadness was even stronger. I just didn't know what to think of myself. Caius comes along with a mission and I jump at the opportunity…just so I can try to find you. I still loved you, Revan. I went along with them…I learned a lot about love. And I learned that my deepest fear came true—that the man I loved didn't actually exist. That you were not really you—that you were a programmed identity that is now gone. I was in love with a shadow…and now you are here."

Revan gulped, but said nothing.

"I don't want to love you anymore," Bastila said with force, "I just…I don't. I want to break away from this." She looked at him for a long time before adding on, "I'm sorry. I know this is hard. It was hard for me too, but you broke my heart on Malacandra and now I just have to go along with it. I'm sorry." The coldness in her words surprised him. She had become very tender around him in their last days together, but now the old Bastila—the stodgy and distant one—was supplanting her. He had no one, of course, but himself to blame for this.

He began, "You are right. It is hard. But can you then imagine my anguish? Can you imagine anything more terrible than not having your most treasured memories be gone…but to realize that they never existed? That the things you held most dear never really were? That is my predicament. The love I have for you now was never truly reciprocated, this I know. You gave it to a man who does not exist. But that leaves me here, still, trying to tell you how I feel. All while the man you love is dead. This is truly hell."

"I am sorry," Bastila said simply.

"I still love you," he said.

"I know."

"And that is it?"

"I think…I can't think about this anymore. I don't know…I just don't want to think about it. Fate conspired to keep us apart. I think…I think we're simply not meant to be. And what you said is true…the man I loved is gone."

"Very well," said Revan. "I do not deserve anything more."

"I truly am sorry."

"I believe you are, my love, but not as sorry as I am."

With that, he turned and left. Bastila was again abandoned, sitting in solitude in her miserable bedroom. This was the very last thing she had wanted to happen, and yet it had. How could it? How could everything end up so awfully antithetical to what she had tried and desired to achieve? It just wasn't fair. She scooted backwards onto her bed and tried to will herself to sleep. She laid her head down. After a few moments, she felt that her pillow was beginning to get moist, wetted by tears, and she did not care enough to even think about it. She simply resigned to apathetic sleep, hoping to forget everything that had happened.

Revan, though he had left her alone, had not actually gone away. He stood outside her door, standing aside and peering through the vertical crack, as it was just barely open. He did not move, did not do anything. He just stood there and watched. He had no idea how long—hours, maybe. Throughout everything that he had done he had known that this would happen—but he still could not prepare himself for the pain. He knew he would lose her—but the notion was easier to bear before it had actually transpired.

He saw her in there sleeping, though it was far from peaceful. She seemed to twitch and cringe during her slumber, as though a terrible dream were raging within her mind. Her head had slid off of her pillow and half of her face was buried in her sheet. He wanted nothing more than to just be with her then. He wanted to put his hand on her smooth alabaster skin and assure her that everything was all right. He wanted to simply sit in the same room with her. Not do anything. He had no base intentions—sex did not concern him. He wanted her as a person and a friend, someone to simply help him bear his burden. He wanted to just sit there, but for her to know that he was there—for her to want him to be there. But she didn't want him to. She wanted him gone. As with everything that had happened in his life, his decisions in the past came back to torment him in the present. He could never escape the eternal hounding of his old life, never outlive the shadow of his past; he could only try to defeat it and thereby…finish. Finish everything.

* * *

A shroud of darkness slowly and graceful descended upon Senadis Station, covering the entire complex under a cloak of some kind of ethereal night. There was the rumble of vessels—hundreds, thousands of them—exploding out of hyperspace, circling the pitiful station like vultures over a dying animal. They had no choice but surrender…hope to see another day.

* * *

Caius had eventually told Atton to get lost so he could sleep; at least for a few hours before morning, but he did not really anticipate how tired he would be when his sleep would be rudely interrupted the next day.

There was a loud pounding on his door that shook him awake, his head spinning and his back stiff. He said groggily, "What…who's there?"

"Nantaris. Quick, get up and get to the council room ASAP."

"What's happened?"

"The Sith have solved our problem for us."

Caius wanted to ask what this meant, but he had no chance.

"Just get there, quickly."

Caius called after him, but there was no answer. He resigned to obeying the orders and he hastily tried to make himself look a little bit presentable. It was early morning, the sun having just barely risen. He threw on his gray robes and jogged away from his room and towards the High Council room. As he got there, he saw all of the people from the day before situated in the room, perhaps more. Bastila was there, her visage worn and tired. Revan was there too, his eyes sunken and with black rings around them. The rest of the Jedi seemed to be in better shape, but were still haggard.

As they all filed in, Nantaris strode to the center of the room near a pedestal used for hologram projections. He waited until everyone quieted and began, "An hour ago we received this transmission from Senadis Station out on the Rim. I'll let it speak for itself."

He backed away and they were presented with a static, shimmering blue motion picture. It blinked several times before coming into focus—the scene was disturbing. In the foreground was a kneeling figure, hands bound behind his back and his head covered. There seemed to be a good deal of commotion taking place—there was noise and a lot of activity. Two hooded and dark phantoms were standing at his side; they seemed to be prodding him. At length, the kneeling man spoke, his voice broken and raspy.

"…Colonel Farain…" he said through the static, "…Senadis…" The message blinked several times, exploded into static, and then warped back into being, this time it stayed solid. "Our numbers will darken the sky—blot out even the stars…you have no chance to survive…thousands of our warships ready to destroy your worlds…give us what we want…no one need die."

Caius stole a glance around the room. Everyone seemed positively horrified; it was as if they were watching a horror film.

"Give us what we want…Severus…the Betrayer…you know him…Revan. Surrender him…save your…worlds…your precious…lives. We know all…maps…coordinates…numbers. You have seventy-two hours…send him…surrender and live…refuse…and…di—"

Farain had not even the opportunity to finish his sentence—there was a loud crack and his body went limp, falling forward and crashing to the ground. An imposing figure seemed to then block their vision, a masked and cloaked behemoth that certainly was a creature of importance. They saw his back and then the transmission blinked again and then went static—dying.

Its end was greeted with silence—pure, terrified, and uncertain silence.

Long after the hologram had withered and dispersed, no one dared to respond. They were simply too shocked to even know what to think. The old debate was gone—the Sith were there and they were threatening immediate invasion. They were now presented with a more concrete, yet equally ambiguous dilemma: what of Revan?

He strode forward and let them all see him, as though he believed himself to be a criminal awaiting sentencing. Perhaps he was.

"Well?" he asked—or rather, demanded.

"This is not a decision to be made lightly," said Nantaris from his center seat.

Ostyl then broke the solemn quiet and asked bluntly, but somehow impersonally, "What do you mean it is not to be made lightly? It is trading one man's life for millions." He thumped his foot on the marble floor, said, "We should probably do it."

No one wanted to condemn a man to death while he was in their presence, but a consensus had to be reached. Slowly, and quietly, some support came for his plan. Two of the Jedi, a man and woman, both agreed with him, rationalizing that one death for millions was not such a bad trade.

As the awkward dullness continued, Revan surprised everyone by saying, "It does make the most logical sense to give me up. Provided that the message is truthful, of course."

"We cannot deny it now," said Vrook, "the Sith have made their intent quite obvious."

"Oh, I do not contest that," replied Revan, "I mean only to highlight the probability of the Sith attacking regardless of my fate. Surrender—or no—they will still come."

"You presume to know this?" asked Vrook.

"Yes."

Nantaris interjected, "He has a point. Given the nature of these Sith—they did just execute a man on camera—I would say that the odds of their compliance is unlikely."

Vrook disagreed, but said, "I think compliance is possible—but we cannot blindly sacrifice anyone, even if it is Revan."

No one commented. The mood of the gathering was radically different than the previous day; instead of chaotic noise and argument, this one was dominated by quiet uncertainty and desperation.

Glendower then spoke, said, "Logically we should give him up. If they still invade, they still invade. At the very least we will have attempted to buy time. And what have we to lose?"

"Him," said Nantaris bluntly, indicating the Prodigal Knight.

"He is but one man," said Ostyl.

"Right, but he is our only insight into the Sith," countered Nantaris. His green eyes afforded another look at Revan before he continued, "and suppose that, after we give him up, the Sith do forestall hostilities. What then? Will they simply leave us alone? Forever?"

"Don't confuse the issue, Nantaris—the alternatives are simple: Give him up and save millions or foolishly provoke their wrath," retorted a man who Caius did not recognize.

"This is a false dilemma," replied the Grandmaster, "and I will not dignify it with a response."

"I say we vote," challenged Vrook, "we are no monarchy."

"Should not the Chancellor be alerted to this matter?" asked a woman naval officer.

"He has been," responded Carth. "No comment from his cabinet as of yet."

Nantaris looked about the room and his eyes settled on Caius. He then proposed, "What has the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ to say? General Lucullus?" Clearly he made use of his rank and history as a war veteran to appeal to the other officers—they would be predisposed to listen to him over someone like Vrook.

Caius did not know. He looked about and his eyes met Revan's, both of them staring at each other. Revan's countenance beckoned a simple answer, and for some reason Caius felt as though he could offer either alternative. He opened his mouth and hoped that a logical answer would come out, and it did.

"We should try to appease them. If it doesn't work…then it doesn't work."

The Exile then stole a glance at Bastila, wondering what she would suggest. One look proved to him, however, that she was in no position to suggest anything. She looked completely horrified, as though the dilemma was literally ripping her apart from inside. He remembered all that she had told him, all that she had said about Revan—he knew that this must be truly the most hellish decision that she could be forced to make.

Nantaris seemed to be expecting her to answer, but it was clear that she couldn't so he tried to cover for her. He said, "Thank you, Caius."

Revan just looked at him, still staring him in the eyes. Shockingly, there seemed to be no animosity or hate in Revan's glare—he was just stoic; like a man going to the gallows.

Nantaris, however, was not pleased with the way this meeting was progressing. He knew, deep down, that the Sith would not just back off with a promise—he simply _felt _it. There was no way bartering would save them. He had to prevent Revan from being sent away—the man was the only one with experience with the Sith, the only one who knew anything about them. To give him up because of such a false hope would be fruitless.

"Once again, I disagree with the Exile," said Vrook. "But I believe we must vote, now, and then decide where to go from there." He looked around, gauging the faces of those present, and then began, "All in favor…"

But he was cut off.

"Wait," said Bastila meekly, but with a certain degree of confidence. "Could we spring a trap?"

"A trap?" asked several people at once.

"If they are going to attack regardless of what we do, should we not try to strike first?" she asked. "We could stage a surrender and then detonate a bomb in their fleet."

Vrook scoffed, "This is not practical."

"It could be done," Dodonna mused aloud.

Vrook muttered something, but Bastila was relieved to know that he had no inkling of any ulterior motives on her part. Try as she might to stop loving Revan, she never would want him dead. She could not live with such a thing. But that was only part of the reason she suggested this plan—in actuality she thought it made the most sense as well.

Flavius then asked, "How would we get a bomb into the midst of their fleet? And how much destruction could we cause?"

Werner Ostyl said, "The W-28 thermonuclear bombs are the equivalent of five hundred megatons of TNT joules—I'd say it would do a lot of damage."

"But would it destroy a whole fleet?" asked Nantaris.

"No," replied Ostyl, "not of that size. They are too far apart."

"We don't have to destroy the whole fleet," said Bastila, "we just have to kill the Sith Lord."

Revan spoke up, said, "She is right. Ardashir is the messianic prophet of the Sith. He is believed to be invincible—his death would break them."

"So we need to assassinate him, then?" asked Flavius. "That could be done indeed."

Vrook exploded, "You're hedging your hopes on the blind chance that a bomb may or may not kill the enemy? What if he survives?"

"They will be significantly weakened," said Nantaris.

Vrook huffed loudly and sat backwards, angered at how the situation had spiraled out of control.

Flavius said, "This is all fine in theory—but how do we get such a massive bomb into their fleet? Surely we cannot sneak it in."

"We can," said Carth, "if we go under the guise of offering them Revan. Get close enough, and then blow it up."

"This is dangerous," began Dodonna warily, "I hesitate to send anyone in under orders. I would rather look for volunteers. Something like this…it's likely that whoever we send will not return."

Only a few moments of silence elapsed before Flavius spoke up, said firmly, "I will go."

Nantaris stopped him, said, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but there is still much that needs to be worked out. Preliminary steps must be undertaken to determine if this is possible, but I think we can all agree that this is the best course of action, right?"

Nearly everyone in the council agreed, only a few remained dissenters—Vrook one of them. The haggard old Jedi just sat still, running his finger up and down his cane. He had lost almost all of his influence at this point. Once he had been one of the most revered masters in the Order—now he was playing second fiddle to a self-identified revolutionary. He despised it.

"Then we will get to work right away," said Nantaris.

* * *

Two days planning and everything was set in motion. Flavius oversaw the assembly of a small strike team of volunteers. They were given a distinct little destroyer to use as their vessel, and the massive bomb was somehow crammed into one of the large escape pods—the reason the ship had been chosen in the first place. The plan was to approach Senadis Station under a white flag and offer to present them Revan. They would determine the best location to fire off the escape pod, and then try their best to rocket out of the vicinity. They knew that it was very likely—almost assured, in fact—that they would not return. But they had to detonate the weapon—the future of the Republic and the Jedi Order depended on it.

Only just hours before they planned to shove off from Coruscant, Vrook's health worsened. He was ill as it was. Coupled with the stress of recent days and his fury at Revan's continued existence, his health declined even further. In the early morning that day, he suffered another stroke. This one was more severe and was almost certain to kill him.

Nantaris stood at the foot of his hospital bed, watching the elderly man slowly deteriorate. Word had spread throughout the Temple, and Caius, though every inclination told him not to do so, went as well. Despite his very strained relationship with Vrook, he still felt it necessary to be there.

He found Nantaris just standing still in the room, still in his dark robes. It looked like he had not slept for two days, had barely eaten, and had not bathed. He was almost ghoulish in his appearance. Caius figured he probably looked the same way.

"Is this it?" Caius asked as he walked into the room.

"Yes," answered Nantaris simply, "it's over for him, lad."

The Exile just nodded and remained where he was. He looked over Vrook again, thought that this was the end of the old era. The last Jedi who had any ties to the Old Order, the one with the familiar hierarchy and the stability and the revered wisdom, was leaving. He would leave behind a fractured and desolate order—broken and almost completely devoid of life. They had barely two dozen Jedi, and a cantankerous knight who had never asked for this mantle led them. The Order was merely patched together. Just as the Republic was patched together. Caius then felt a degree of immense sadness for Vrook. He had seen the Order go from a proud entity, the guardians of peace, to a mere powerless shell. He would likely die thinking that the Order would go with him. It was tragic.

"It's a funny thing," said Nantaris, "isn't it?"

"Huh?" Caius grunted.

"This, lad," he replied, gesturing to the old man, "life, death. All of it."

"Oh."

"The whole process. We are born, without our permission, and then we are alive, wondering why. And no sooner do we get here than do we learn that we are only visiting." He gave a very quick, breathy sigh, continued, "It must have been shocking—finding out that we die. When you're little, you must assume that you just go on forever. But then you find out that you don't…and it must be terrifying. But for some reason I cannot remember it. It would be the worst revelation anyone could ever experience—but the memory of it totally escapes me." He looked at Caius grimly, his darkened green eyes boring into him. He asked, "Do you remember?"

Caius thought for a minute, said, "No. No, I don't."

"The revelation of death is only second to this," he said, then looking at Vrook again.

"But this is death," said Caius.

"This is more. This is death—alone."

Caius looked back down at Vrook, realizing that Nantaris was getting at the same feeling that he had when he first looked upon the withering body of the old man.

Nantaris continued, "All of it for naught, huh, lad? What's the Order going to do for him now?" He smirked somewhat sardonically to himself, said, "Every single living thing dies alone. Just like Vrook is doing now. That is the final revelation."

The Exile pondered this for a moment. Thought to himself almost aloud, saying, "I don't agree. Not everyone dies alone."

"Well, lad, the evidence is right here."

"You do not sound like much of a Jedi," said Caius.

"I do not feel like much of a Jedi," replied Nantaris.

The words were thoroughly confusing to Caius. Looking over the hunched figure of the Grandmaster, he realized that it must just be pure exhaustion that was taking its toll on the man. Considering the stress that he had gone through, the pressure of trying to maintain the order, and the anxious waiting they all had to endure about the Sith threat, it was no small wonder the man was still sane. The Exile said, "Come on, Nantaris, I think you need to sleep."

His sentence was punctuated by the sound of Vrook flatlining. A doctor who was nearby rushed to his side. Two nurses joined him. They began to work feverishly to keep the old man alive, but both Jedi knew their efforts would be futile.

"Come on, let's go," said Caius.

Nantaris nodded and the two men left. In the room, the doctor stopped giving orders and merely hung his head.

Vrook had passed away.

* * *

Several hours later, Flavius and his team were ready. They ran through a checklist for the thousandth time, trying to determine if they had overlooked anything, and then readied for lift off. Dodonna stood on the ground at the naval docks, near the ship. She watched gravely as the air traffic controller ran through the countdown and then granted them permission to take off. All sorts of aides and lower-ranked officers flanked her.

Next to her was Carth, Dustil behind him. The young Jedi had been cleared to leave the hospital, though he was commanded to take it easy.

The Fleet Admiral then said, "We need a miracle." She turned to her side and looked up at Carth, asked, "What is it the Jedi always say?"

Carth mused on the question, though he knew the answer immediately. He said, "May the Force be with them."

"Yes, for our sake—may it be."


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

The plan was set in motion. In the event that it failed, the Republic military was preparing the best defense that it could. Ships were called in from all over the federation to Coruscant, where Revan had assured them the Sith would attack. Reserve troops were called in, and seemingly everyone who could hold a gun was brought in to situate themselves around the temple. Other reinforcements were called in from around the galaxy. The public had panicked, as expected, and the leaders opted to simply tell the truth. An invasion was expected and everyone was either required to stay home or to relocate to the thousands of bunkers that had been erected during the height of the Civil War. Even Chancellor Sertorius was moved to the safety of the Jedi Temple. But they did not tell the public this yet…they would wait and see how the nuclear assassination would turn out.

As for the sneak attack, the plan was relatively simple. The small destroyer, the _Aeolos_, would carry the bomb to the Senadis Station, under a white flag, and offer Revan to the Sith. Then Flavius would play it by ear, gauge how close he thought they could get to the heart of the Sith fleet, and then launch the bomb in the escape pod. It had a timer for twenty minutes that would begin counting down at launch. That would give them just enough time to escape. A smaller reconnaissance ship, _Calyce_, would hang back and keep contact with the Jedi and the Republic brass. Information was of the utmost importance. They had briefly entertained the idea of using computers or droids to execute the mission, but they were unsure whether the machines could be trusted to make the right judgment calls. In a situation in which anything could go wrong, they needed the dynamic kind of sentient adaptability that droids just did not have.

Flavius Glendower stood solemnly on the ship's bridge, watching the viewport as they fell out of hyperspace. They were piloted by several volunteers, some young, some old, most of them relatively inexperienced. They were the only ones who dared step forward for this kind of suicide mission. Outside, they were able to bear witness to the size and might of the Sith armada. It was truly enormous. Thousands of gray slits hung in the black expanse of space, floating maliciously around the completely helpless station. In the midst of the throng was a ridiculously large vessel—what could only be the capital ship. It seemed to be at least twice as large as even the second biggest vessel in the armada. That would be where they would angle the nuclear weapon. It would likely knock out the station, too, so they had all the bases covered.

"See how close you can get in before they make contact," said Flavius.

The young woman piloting the ship obeyed, slowly bringing them in towards the station. They only made it so far before a transmission exploded onto their hologram projector. There appeared to be a human talking in it, but somehow it was unnatural. As though the Sith were talking through him like some kind of living marionette. It said, "Halt your movement…speak your intent or die…"

"We come with peace. We have Revan—we offer him to you freely," said Flavius.

"Do not come closer…we shall meet you…" came the response.

"We will dock with the station," suggested Flavius.

There was some hesitation at the other end, but then the words eventually came through: "Do so."

The _Aeolos_ crept closer, inching towards the occupied station.

"Give us the word to launch the nuke," said a technician after turning off the comm.

"Right," replied Flavius, "let's get a little closer."

They proceeded onwards, getting closer and closer to the best possible angle. They were almost in perfect position to hurl the deadly weapon, but then they were compromised.

"We're stuck!" shouted the pilot.

"Excuse me?" queried Flavius.

"We…we can't move!"

Flavius quickly turned to the scanning equipment and radar to his right—the wall adorned with the things. A nervous, twitching tech pointed spastically at something on the screen that just popped into existence. He jammed his finger against it and said, "There's…a sh-ship! Right on top of us! It must have had a cloaking device!"

The Jedi did not say anything—this would not bode well.

There was the unmistakable sound of their ship being apprehended. Several loud clicks and metal fusions indicated that they were about to be docked.

"Launch the weapon," said Flavius. "You know the coordinates. I'll go see what is happening."

There was hesitation, but then resigned compliance: "Aye, aye, sir."

* * *

From a safe distance away, on board the _Calyce_; the crew was notified to the launching of the weapon.

Her crew stood by in tense anxiety. "Come on," someone said, "twenty minutes."

* * *

Flavius stood in front of the main airlock that now connected to the stealth Sith ship. There was noise from behind it, clearly the enemy trying to get in. Behind him were two Republic soldiers, both dressed in gray body armor.

The Jedi then opened the door, deciding it was better to meet their foes face to face. The white doors slid open sideways, skidding along the ground, to reveal a bizarre and confusing scene. They were presented with a sickened and pale man, his arms bound behind his back. He seemed to be somehow possessed by one of the Sith behind him, his head was twitching as they manipulated him. Behind him were three Sith, two hooded soldiers, and one conspicuous one. He was a little taller, but he wore no hood, allowing his festering purplish/white skin to be seen by all. He had black body armor that was wrapped in all kinds of dark clothes, and a large sheathed sword. A dark gray cape, frayed at the edges as though they had been shredded, flowed behind him. On his head was a slanted, triangular hat of some kind, but the sheer ugliness of his face was too distracting for Flavius to care what it was.

The possessed human lunged forward and stuttered, "Rev…an…" before passing out on the ground and writhing in pain.

Flavius said calmly, "Kill them."

The two Republic soldiers opened fire and Flavius instantly had his viridian lightsaber activated. He launched forward, slicing one of the Sith guards in half before it had a chance to react. The Republic soldiers gunned down the second one, leaving only the unique Sith left. What they did not know, however, was that this was Inamurah, one of the two remaining Sith Lords.

The soldiers opened fire on him as well, their blaster bolts tearing into his armor, but they seemed to have no effect. The Sith cried out some kind of devilish curse and then flew towards Flavius. He parried and rotated sideways like a matador. Inamurah brushed past him, but elegantly spun around and ran his sword through the torso of one of the Republic volunteers.

The remaining soldier emptied the clip of his automatic blaster rifle, but he was erratic, spraying the shots everywhere and mostly missing. Flavius tried to strike a blow, but the Sith Lord merely blocked it without looking and the Jedi had to duck down and roll to the side to avoid a counter hit.

The Republic man dropped his weapon and went for his holstered pistol. He brought it up to eye level in a hurry and aimed at Inamurah's head. Walking backwards as he fired, he unloaded everything he had. Inamurah continued stalking towards him, despite the fact that the bolts continually struck him—two even hitting his face. His head and shoulder jerked backwards with each impact, but he did not slow his advance.

The ship shuddered violently as she tried to break away from the Sith ship, but to no avail. The spasm threw Flavius to the ground. He scrambled to try to get up and intercede, but the entire episode unfolded in a matter of seconds.

The soldier's gun clicked, emptied, and Inamurah made his last stride. He thrust out his hand and palmed the man's face, crushing his skull with his hand. He then wrenched his arm backwards and vaulted the hapless soldier through the air. The man collided with a wall with tremendous force and died immediately.

Flavius swung at the Sith's head, but his blow was blocked. He took a step backwards and blocked a counter strike in return.

Another seizure gripped the ship, causing him to lose his balance for a moment. Inamurah was nearly on top of him then, but his saber, almost through luck, prevented his leg from being severed from his body. He hopped backwards to put some distance between himself and the Sith. Something violent slithered out of its throat, and Flavius was entirely certain that it said, "_You cannot kill me_."

He took another step backwards and deactivated his lightsaber. He said, "I killed you twenty minutes ago."

Outside a tiny viewport, no longer than a foot and a half wide, they were presented with the spectacle. A great fireball erupted in the middle of space, blasting outwards from nothing, consuming everything near it. White light exploded outward, washing everything in the incandescent brightness.

Inamurah, in shock, dropped his sword.

They were both dead before it hit the ground.

* * *

"Commander Pryce…reporting from Senadis Station," cackled the static comm, "Bomb has been detonated. No word from the _Aeolos_."

Nantaris, Dodonna, and Ostyl were gathered in small room on the northwest side of the Jedi Temple, listening to the broadcast from the _Calyce_. The military triumvirate anxiously awaited word of their trap's success.

"Can you confirm target's destruction?" asked Dodonna.

There was hesitation on the other end, no reply just yet.

"The capital ship," stated Ostyl, "that is what we are most concerned with."

A screen next to the three blinked green lines, then gray static, and back to the disjointed green illusion. The camera on the _Calyce _was being distorted and confused in the aftermath of the bomb's explosion.

"We've lost visual," came the distressed voice at the other end.

The screen blinked into focus briefly and showed the expanse of space with seemingly nothing where the bomb had gone off—everything having been blasted into oblivion.

"It looks like there is nothing to see," said Nantaris, who had his hands on the corners of a wooden table, overlooking a frenzied pile of papers and documents.

They looked longer, still getting nothing on the screen.

"We need visual confirmation," stated Ostyl, "has the target been destroyed?"

Again the screen flickered, static, then came into focus again. They looked and thought they could see.

"Negative," came Pryce's voice, low and despairing over the comm, "target…is still there. I repeat…target is still there."

The screen finally came into pure focus—and they saw it too…the capital ship was still there, hovering innocently in the same area it had been. Senadis Station, though, had been atomized.

"How…is that possible?" Dodonna lamented.

There was no answer.

"The bloody nuke blew up right underneath it! How the hell is it still there?" asked Nantaris.

Ostyl's jaw seemed locked and he put his hand on his chin.

Nantaris flung his hand across the table in a temper, scattering the papers and launching them all across the room.

* * *

Revan could feel it. Ardashir had survived the attack. Inamurah had been killed, as well as a few dozen smaller Sith ships—the video confirmed this—but the rest of the fleet was intact. Ardashir was not on the Senadis Station, and he was not on the Republic ship. He had weathered the attack, and now he would strike back with his inimitable rage. The battle to end all battles was nigh.

* * *

The trap had failed, this they now knew. Slowly they had learned more. Several Sith ships were, in fact, destroyed. The station had been obliterated. But the Sith capital ship had, somehow, absorbed the attack and muscled through it. They had no idea how—there were no shields that could possibly have resisted such an attack. The logic had no bearing on the situation anymore, though, they had provoked the enemy, and soon they would strike back with everything that they had. They had struck the hornet's nest with a stick.

Revan had assured them that the counterattack would come straight to them. Coruscant was the grand prize, the Sith were not concerned with any other planet. It symbolized the heart of the Republic—without it, the conglomeration would almost cease to exist. They knew the battleground—it was just a matter of waiting.

They would not sit on their hands, however; everyone scrambled to prepare, to do everything that could possibly be done in order to counter the eventual attack. The population was informed of the situation, as calmly as possible, and told it was mandatory to stay inside or to make their ways to local bunkers. Their movement would be enforced by the planet's massive police force. The senators and politicians were evacuated and sent to secure locations, even the Chancellor himself going into hiding. Almost the entire Republic fleet—what had remained of it—came into orbit over the planet, positioned strategically in between the orbital defense stations for maximum protection. Reinforcements were called in from every corner of the Republic—some even days before the trap had been sprung. They were trickling in, and the military hoped they would be enough…at least they would raise their chances.

With word of the assassination mission's failure spreading throughout the ranks, Caius was hard pressed to find any optimism at all within the army or the Order. A degree of fatalistic depression had set in, and morale was low. As with any defending force, having to wait for an attack was nerve-wracking. They did not know when the moment of attack would come—so they had to be ready at all moments. It wore them down.

The day wore on, but there was no word on Sith movement or mobilization. They were certain the attack would come within a day or two.

Light faded and soon darkness fell on the Jedi Temple. No one could sleep, and Caius resorted to wandering the halls aimlessly, inspecting defenses and generally trying to figure out what he should do to help. As he strolled past the few docks that the Jedi Temple accommodated, he witnessed an unusual sighting. He could only make out darkened silhouettes in the night, but he was certain that there was a creature of at least eight feet in height moving through the hall, conversing with several other people. There were three Jedi, now, he could see. They turned to leave as he arrived. As he got closer, he realized what the large shadow was.

_A…Wookiee?_ he thought to himself.

He made his way closer and his vision got better. He did not know the names of the Jedi, but he saw that Carth was present as well.

"Evening, Caius," said the Admiral. This was really the first time they had met since they had come back from the Unknown Regions. He gestured to the Wookiee, said, "Allow me to introduce you to an old friend. Caius—this is Zaalbar."

"Nice…to meet you," Caius said, somewhat uncertain.

Zaalbar growled something, but the Exile could not understand it. Suddenly, a little blue Twi'lek flew out from behind his back and began, "He says it's nice to…" she then halted. "It's you! I remember you! From Taris!"

Caius cocked his head, somewhat uncomprehending. He could not recall.

Carth saved him, asked, "You've met Mission already?"

Then it all came back to him, he stuttered, "Right—yes, she gave us fuel on Taris when we came out of hyperspace from Malachor." He added, "Thanks, again, for that."

"I can see it went to good use," she replied, "you did find Revan."

Caius then asked, though he struggled at first to say the name, "What is…_Zaalbar_…doing here?"

The wookiee responded with a quiet—by their standards—growl that seemed to signify willful allegiance. Carth said, "He is chieftain of his village on Kashyyyk—they owe a debt to Revan, so they are here to lend their support. He is here with three hundred of his finest warriors to help defend the Temple."

"_Three hundred wookiees?_" Caius asked.

Zaalbar howled loudly in approval.

Caius coughed, "That's just…so many."

"You'll never meet a cuddlier army, you know?" stated Mission.

Zaalbar grunted.

"Geez, I was kidding," she replied indignantly, "you never could take sarcasm well, could you?"

"Well," said Carth, "It is good to see both of you again…it reminds me of better days. Hard to believe, huh?"

Mission sighed, said, "Yeah—they were."

The Admiral nodded to them and said, "If you'll excuse me, I must get going. We can guess that the counter attack will come soon."

* * *

The Republic army scrambled to cover all of their bases, but did so with surprising efficiency. There were ten separate shield generators for the Orbital Defense Stations, spread all over Coruscant. Each one needed defending—if a generator was bombed or disabled then the ODS would be completely helpless. With no shield to protect it, a direct hit from a decent sized enemy gun could rip straight through it. The defense would live and die with the protection of the stations. Many troops were devoted to each generator with the hopes of keeping them online.

Despite this, however, the greatest number and the best-trained soldiers were committed to the Jedi temple. The Temple itself harbored the monstrous power generator for the individual shield generators, so destroying it would disable _all _of the ODS shields. It was likely that the Temple would receive the brunt of the attack. To account for this, the Republic military delegated the best it could find for the job of defending it.

They had hoped to garner some outside support, but they had not much success. Carth had tried to contact the Mandalorians, but he had not been able to reach them. They were too busy retaining their separate identity.

The wookiees were undoubtedly an asset, but even they could not defend the whole temple alone. Along with a great mass of typical Republic foot soldiers, the military also appointed two divisions of their best soldiers. They were the Fourth and Twenty-Third divisions of the army, and were two of the most decorated in the whole military. These two divisions underwent special training and used the most technologically advanced weapons and armor the Republic had yet created. They were noted for their fearsome appearances, as they were clad head to toe in charcoal black armor—no insignias on any of it save for the left shoulder, the two divisions there bearing separate markings. The armor, however, was not incredibly bulky. It was resilient, yet flexible, which allowed for quick movement. Since they were not weighed down much by it, most of the soldiers in the two divisions carried heavy repeating blasters or automatic blaster rifles. The most distinctive feature was their helmets. They covered the entire head of the soldier, but allowed them to see through striking light blue visors. The visors operated as miniature computers inside their helmets, detailing orders, geography, and armor damage on the little personal HUD displays. Aside from the Jedi, these two divisions were the most formidable fighting force the Republic had available.

The Twenty-Third was assigned to the right flank of the temple, while the Fourth was stationed in the front—guarding the most direct passageway underneath the Temple, where the generator was stored.

The entire next day was spent preparing the defenses, digging trenches and setting up stationary guns as well as barbed wire and force fields and mines. The Republic was sparing expense in erecting anything that could impede an attackers progress. Anti-Air guns were hauled in quickly and stationed about haphazardly.

Nantaris oversaw the situating of the defenses as he spoke to Major General Keilen Eherr, a grizzled, bearded man who had seen innumerable battles.

"I hope your men are as capable as they say," stated Nantaris.

"More than capable," replied Eherr. "They'll never break, no matter what these _Sith _throw at them."

Nantaris breathed out slowly, "I hope you are right."

* * *

The hours dragged on, and day became night and still there was no sign of any impending attack. There was a general feeling, however, that it was soon. There was no way that it would take the Sith longer than two days to mount their assault. It _would _come within the next day—this much was certain.

No one could sleep. Caius once again found himself in conversation with Atton as they whittled away the hours of the night.

"Somehow," said Atton, "I knew I would end up like this. The cataclysmic battle was always coming—I just didn't think it would take this long."

"I'm glad you're here, Atton," Caius replied. He then asked, "Where's Mira?"

"I don't know—I think she's helping with the wookiees right now. Can't imagine why—I'd think she'd be terrified of wookiees after that whackjob that kept stalking her."

"She doesn't get scared," stated Caius.

"No kidding."

They spoke for a little while longer before Atton asked, "Hey, have you seen Bastila?"

"Not lately, why?"

"Nothing really—but she sure is different now. I didn't think, when you left, that she'd come back like this."

"Like what?" Caius asked.

"Like…what? Have you _seen _her at all? She looks terrible. If my gut is right, and it normally is, then there's something seriously wrong with her. How could you not have noticed?"

"I…I don't know," Caius said. He wasn't sure what to say. He could guess that it had to do with Revan, but he didn't want to tell Atton that.

Atton blew out his nose, said, "Well, if she wasn't such a tight ass I'd say someone should try to talk to her, but knowing her she probably would just tell them to crawl in a hole and die."

Caius frowned, said, "Knock it off, she's my friend—and you don't know her at all."

"_Fine_," said Atton, retreating, "but if you're really her friend, maybe _you_ should talk to her."

"What…what would I say?"

"I don't know—play counselor," Atton shrugged, "after all, _you're so good at it_."

Caius sighed, "Always with the sarcasm."

"You know it!"

"All right," said Caius, "I'll see if I can talk to her. And your concern for her is noted."

"Pssh, yeah—that'll be the day."

They spoke for a few more minutes before Caius left. Atton said he was going to bed, so the Exile wandered the halls until he found Bastila's room. He could sense that she was not sleeping. He approached her door quietly and knocked three times. At length he heard her voice, thin and exhausted from the inside. It said, "You can come in, Caius."

The Exile slowly pushed the door open and strolled into the room. It was pretty dark, which was strange considering she wasn't sleeping. As he walked in he flipped on one of the lights—albeit dimly—in order to see. When he did, he set his eyes on the figure sitting on the corner of the bed. It was Bastila all right, but she looked entirely different. She was sitting with her feet on the ground and her hands clasped in between her knees. She was hunched over, her back bent, as she regarded him.

His eyes must have betrayed a kind of surprise at her appearance, because she explained solemnly, "I haven't slept in three days."

"Good L—," he began and coughed, "Bastila…this isn't healthy."

She didn't respond. He looked her over again to see how bad a shape she was in. She was wearing the simpler Jedi robes, no bulky fabric or cape or anything. Her eyes were sunken and there were very dark circles around them, blackening their normally piercing gray color. Her brown hair was askew, as she had not braided it in the complicated way that it normally was. The result was that it was frayed upwards on top as it was used to being bound, and the rest of it fell around her ears and onto her shoulders, completely unkempt.

"Sorry," she said, "I took the braids out."

"No—nothing to apologize for," he said. After speaking, however, he noticed her right arm again. It was exposed, the sleeve rolled up, and scratched into her skin was that same hideous scar. She had apparently been administering some kind of lotion or balm to it, which explained why the sleeve was up.

Sensing his curiosity, she rubbed her hand over the scar and then pulled her sleeve down. She was a bit self-conscious, and she felt awkward with Caius just standing there and doing nothing. However, she asked, "What is it?"

"I just…" he paused, "some of the other Jedi…are worried about you. I wanted to see if you're okay."

She sighed, asked, "Am I so transparent?"

"You're as opaque as they get, Bastila," he said but then immediately regretted it as it seemed to sound like a joke; he continued, "you don't have to be transparent. It's obvious you're not well."

"I'm okay," she replied.

"You haven't slept in three days," Caius echoed. He then pulled out a box of some kind, perhaps a chest, and sat down on it, opposite of her.

"Aside from that—I'm okay. I'll be fine."

Caius put his hand on the side of his face and rubbed it. He then asked, "It's Revan—isn't it?"

She put her head down, then said, "I suppose you already know. There's no point in lying."

"I thought you'd be glad to find him," said Caius.

"We didn't find him," she answered, "we found someone else."

Caius thought about this. It was probably true—this Revan seemed radically different than the one she had told him about. He then said, "I remember…you told me on Nar Shaddaa…that this is what you expected."

"I know," she said, "but that doesn't make it any easier to come to grips with. It was my greatest fear, and now that it's confirmed…I just don't know what to do."

"I don't—" Caius began before she interrupted him.

"I underestimated how hard it would be to deal with this situation. I thought I could just acknowledge that the Revan I loved is gone…but it isn't that simple. I can't just accept that. Not when I see him. Not when I look into his eyes and see the old Revan—see Naithan. I feel like…he's in there. If I knew that he would never come back then I could just let go…but every time I see him I feel like there's still a chance. Like there's still some of that old Revan inside of him. And that maybe…if I say the right thing…or remind him of the right time…that he'll come back."

Caius gulped said, "I don't…know if he will."

Bastila sighed, put her hand on her cheek and said; "I know that with my mind, but not my heart."

"I am sorry," Caius said, "but I don't know what to say. I have no advice to give or pseudo-counsel to offer. I can just say that there's more to your life than Revan."

She tilted her head, as though she found this statement odd. She said, "I…it's just that I've always been associated with him. And these past five years I've wanted to find him again. I can't just easily let go. It's…too difficult."

Caius thought how ironic it was that she seemed to be going through the reverse process that he had undergone. She was going from star-crossed and devoted lover to jaded and hardened cynic. Just as he had transformed from a crusty and reclusive bachelor to a vulnerable but willing person who conceded to give love a shot. He said, "You're a stronger person than anyone I know, Bastila. You can overcome this—I know you can."

She seemed undaunted by his flattery, said, "Heartbreak…is too difficult."

Suddenly Caius remembered the last conversation he had had with Xristos. The words of the old man came back to him; he could remember all of them from that dingy cell on Malacandra. He began, "A wiser man than I told me once…" he gulped, "that to love at all is to be vulnerable. If we love, our heart will be wrung and probably be broken. But that trying to avoid the heartbreak by never loving would be to commit a kind of spiritual suicide—like living in a perpetual hell. The only way to break it is by being willing."

There was a long silence at the other end of the conversation. Bastila sat thinking, eventually said, "Xristos told you that, didn't he?"

"Yes," said Caius, "it was the last thing he said to me."

"He told me too," she replied.

"And what did you think?"

"I think…I think I agree with it," she answered, "but that doesn't make it any less painful. That just means that I should not have expected otherwise." She sighed, said, "I miss that old man."

"Me too," said Caius. "But if you agree with it…you know what it takes—you are far above all of the Jedi like Vrook who never learned anything."

"I suppose," she said, "the philosophy makes sense. But when it hurts this much…head knowledge is not that helpful…"

Caius thought, said, "What is it that you want, then?"

She gave an abbreviated sigh, then said, "I just want to move on. I want to stop looking for the old Revan. I loved him—he's gone. I want to move forward."

"I think you will," said Caius, "you will get there."

"I…can hope," she said.

"I hope I'm not irritating you by trying to help…"

"No, don't worry. It means a lot that you're even trying," she assured him.

"We just don't want anything to happen to you. You mean too much to the Republic, and you mean too much to all of us personally. I consider myself your friend, and I don't want you to be miserable like this. I…well…I want you to be happy."

Bastila muttered something, Caius thought he could pick out, "Universal."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Xristos's fourth love," she said, "You've done it."

"I…have?"

"Yes—you said you wanted me to be happy because I'm your friend. You want what's best for me just because. You're treating me as you would want yourself to be treated. That's it—that's the fourth one. The transcendent one. You're a true Jedi."

"I…what? A Jedi? I'm not even part of the order!"

"You're still a true Jedi. And now…" she trailed off before recovering, "You've reminded me. There are other loves. There are other parts of life. We are supposed to love everyone. I don't _love _Revan, but I still love him. Just as I love you, and Allie, and Carth, and Dustil, and Xristos, and everyone." She shifted from the corner of the bed and stood up. She said, "Thank you, Caius. You are helping, even if you do not know it."

"I…well…you're…welcome?"

"Yes," she said. She ran her hand through her hair and said, "I need to sleep."

They were standing uncomfortably close, and Caius sought to try to dispel the awkwardness. He just nodded and said, "Me too."

There was a lingering moment of uncertainty before Bastila eventually said, "Really—I'm tired."

"Goodnight," Caius added hastily, "and I hope it all works out."

He turned and headed for the door. Outside, he felt as though a weight were lifted off of his shoulders. He hoped that he had helped her more than hurt her, as he really just wanted to make sure she was all right. He instantly felt a bit embarrassed by the whole conversation and thought to himself, _Damn you, Atton_. Now, though, he needed sleep as well. If only for a few hours. For a brief moment, the impending Sith invasion escaped his mind. He was concerned with other things. And he merely wanted rest.

When he left, Bastila finally got a few hours of sleep, but she did not get as much rest as she had hoped. The Force seemed fond of playing havoc with her emotions, and it presented her with a particularly trying scene of her past, playing it over again for her as she tried to sleep.

_She remembered a searing pain, and she found herself lying on the cold metal surface of the space station. Her right arm was throbbing with pain, her black sleeve having been shorn by a lightsaber and her skin burned and scarred. She couldn't move anymore, and her own double bladed weapon had been cast far away, out of reach. She could not call on the Force; she had exhausted herself from the Battle Meditation and from the duel. There was nothing she could do but await the final blow._

_But it wasn't coming._

_She did not bother to look around, only stared at the far away ceiling. She continued to lay motionless on the ground; her limbs sprawled out in every direction, feeling only the burning agony of her arm. "Please…" she whimpered, "please kill me."_

"_Never," answered an unmistakably gruff but undeniably loving voice._

_She felt him kneel down next to her. She grimaced as he put his hands on her arm and tried to funnel the Force into her wounded body—repair the damage he had done. "Just leave me," she pleaded, "I don't deserve anything more."_

_He did not respond to her pitiful pleas, just tried to soothe her. "Shhhh," he said, "It's okay, Bastila."_

_She whimpered again and tried to look away. She grunted as he tried to heal her arm, the pain knifing through it._

"_I'm sorry," he said, "I tried not to hurt you…"_

"_You shouldn't," she exhaled weakly, "be helping me. I could attack you again."_

"_You could," he answered, "but you won't." He was confident, and he was peaceful._

"_Please…" she began again._

"_It's okay, Bastila," he repeated, seeming to appreciate merely pronouncing her name, "I'm here. It's over now." He picked her up off of the ground and cradled her in his arms, trying to rejuvenate the broken spirit within her. Time seemed to stop, the battle raging around the Star Forge fading from their minds. At this moment, there was nothing going on in the universe except this conversation. "It's all over."_

"_Malak…" she began, "he will kill us."_

"_No he won't," he answered. _

_She opened her eyes and chanced a look at his face. There he was, just as she had expected. Haggard, unshaven, simply worn down from all that had happened. But in spite of all of this, he was…smiling. It was subtle, but it was there. He was smiling—at her._

"_Why won't you leave me?" she asked, "why try to bring me back?"_

"_I love you, Bastila," he answered quickly and firmly, "and I'll never leave you. No matter what."_

"…_never," she said quietly._

"_No," he repeated, "never."_

_She saw, manifested in his brown eyes as they gazed at her, something pure—something completely untouched by evil, or suffering, or pain. It was simple devotion, complete fixation on her. It was unconditional, and undefeatable. She could see it, it wasn't something she felt or knew from hearing it. She could see it._

"_I love you, too," she admitted. It was the first time she had ever spoken the words. The first time such a blasphemous statement had ever come out of her mouth. "Please forgive me—if you can…forgive me."_

"_I forgive you, love," he replied._

_

* * *

_

Elliott had spent the last several days keeping a low profile. He would rather not have to take part in all the festivities. If he could have, he would have sneaked out the Jedi Temple and gone to a bar; however, not only would that be suicide, but there were none open. He smoked a lot of cigarettes and generally had the lower levels of the Temple staked out.

Very few people were coming by the droid repair area, as there were other things of priority, so he frequented the place to be alone.

This time, however, he came across HK and T3, biding time in the droid shop. HK had apparently been trying to modify his weapons, and T3 had been annoying him. They were arguing when Elliott found them.

"Statement:" began HK, though he addressed Elliott, "I tire of arguing with this little trash compactor. He is definitely a lower-tier piece of machinery."

"Uh huh," said Elliott.

"Query: Are you not also anticipating the glorious battle that is to commence so soon? My behavior core is practically quivering with excitement."

T3 beeped. Elliott sensed that this is what the droids were talking about.

"I have to say," Elliott answered as he took a drag from his cigarette, "I agree with T3."

"Lamentation: I will never understand you pacifist types."

"I'm not a pacifist," Elliott answered, "I just would rather not be here."

"Statement: I will never understand you pacifist types."

"I'll never understand you raging psychopath types." He inhaled his cigarette again.

"Query: Why is it that you are ingesting such a lethal thing? My scanners inform me that each inhalation increases your odds of early fatality by fifty percent."

Elliott blew smoke at the droid, said, "Because it calms me down."

"Query: So, you are shivering with anticipation?"

"No—I'd rather not be here. I didn't sign up to fight a war."

"Statement: It does not matter what you signed up for, meatbag. You are here." HK paused and looked at T3, who was hanging his head sideways. He continued, "Statement: I look forward to commencing hostilities."

* * *

Morning came, and still there was no indication of the Sith attack. Their spy ship had fled in fear of discovery, and since then it was likely that the Sith had remained where they were, content to plot and plan. With hyperspace capabilities, they would be able to jump to Coruscant rather quickly. Predicting the time was a matter of guessing.

Caius awoke; having gained about five hours of much needed rest. _It will be today_, he thought to himself. _It has to be_.

He cleaned himself up a bit, shaved and washed his face, and then left his empty room behind. After the in depth conversation with Bastila, he felt the need to track down Allie and talk to her again. He was not entirely sure he would have another opportunity. She was not in her room, so he had to look the old fashioned way—by simply asking people if they had seen her. He eventually tracked her down, on her way to the underbelly of the Temple.

"Allie!" he called after her.

She halted her movement and instantly looked up. She smirked and raised an eyebrow as she saw him coming. As he approached, she crossed her arms and asked, "Yes?"

"Where are you going?" he asked.

She uncrossed her arms and said, "Anyone good with machines is requested to go the basement and keep track of the generator and other equipment. I figured I could be of the most help there. In case something happens."

"Okay," he said.

"Are you going to fight?" she asked.

"I have to."

She nodded, said, "Yeah, I know."

He scratched the top of his head and tried to think of something to say, but suddenly he had no idea.

"What is it you called me for?" she asked.

"Just…" he tried to think, but then said simply, "be safe."

She put her hand to her chin and said, "I will try." She looked up, as though she were expecting the Sith to attack at that moment. She asked, "Do you think we'll win?"

"I don't…I don't know," he said, likewise looking through the large glass windows on the ceiling. Somehow, the image of the blue sky was soothing at that moment. As though the everything were normal, even though the situation was dire. It was as if the universe was the same, ignorant of the great battle that was coming.

"I think we will," she assured him, "besides…you still owe me dinner. And I don't want to pass up a free meal."

He looked down to her, somewhat surprised at her comment, and noticed that she was smiling—definitely a strange gesture for such a serious moment. But then at the same time he realized that this was what was so endearing about her. She seemed to be relentlessly optimistic—not necessarily in a naïve way, but she simply refused to look at anything from a grim and depressing angle. It was a welcome change from his usual company.

When she realized that he was simply going to stare at her and say nothing, she extended her hand towards him. She seemed to think his demeanor was funny, and he was surprised that she suddenly seemed to knock his head about the way an amused parent does when a child does something funny.

"What was that for?" he asked, trying to determine what the hell had just happened.

"Nothing," she replied, "I just think you need to lighten up a bit."

"Thanks for hitting me," he said somewhat tersely.

She was unfazed, said, "You're welcome." She snickered quietly and then said, "Okay, I have to get to the basement now. I'll see you after this is all over." She turned and walked a few feet away towards an elevator. She hit one of the buttons, turned around as she waited and said, "Goodbye. And…good luck."

Caius just waved. The elevator opened and she went inside. As the door was closing on her, he saw her wave back. Then it was shut and she was gone.

"Be safe…" he said quietly.

* * *

Carth was heading to a shuttle. He was going back to the _Reckoner_, as the battle was sure to commence soon. He had done all he could on the ground. Dustil was behind him, fated to join him in space. His son was still too weak to actually fight, and Carth did not want to leave him behind. Dustil insisted on being involved, however, so they reached this compromise. Dustil would provide whatever support he could from the deck of his ship.

The two men strode quickly towards the private dockyards, towards a small shuttle that had hurriedly been prepared for them. As they walked, Carth spotted Bastila in the distance. She was talking to someone he didn't recognize.

Carth said, "Dustil—I'll be right there. Meet me in the shuttle in five minutes."

His son nodded and they parted ways.

Carth made his way towards Bastila. She had just ended her conversation, but was lingering in the same spot. He came up to her from the side and said, "Bastila—there you are."

She turned to him and smiled warmly, said, "Carth, it's good to see you."

He began, "I just wanted to thank you for getting Dustil back to me. I feel like the world has been lifted off of my shoulders. I just…thank you for keeping your promise."

Bastila nodded very slightly, said, "I'm sorry that he got hurt…we did everything we could to keep him safe."

"He told me what happened," Carth replied, "you don't have to justify it. You saved his life. Consider me eternally grateful. And that's just the top of a long list of things you've done for me. I just wanted to say thanks in case….in case…"

"In case we don't make it?" she asked.

He nodded, but decided that such macabre discussion was not to his liking. He said, "You look much better now—have you been getting more sleep?"

"A little more, yes," she replied, "it's…getting better."

"That is good to hear—is there anything I can do?"

She thought on the question, then answered, "No, no I don't think so. This is something that I must come to terms with on my own." She turned her head away a little and looked past him.

Carth simultaneously wanted and loathed to ask the next question, but he did so anyway. He asked, "It's Revan. Isn't it?"

She instantly was looking into his eyes again, asked with a shocked expression, "You…know…?"

"I've always known, Bastila," he answered, "since the beginning."

"And you…"

"I never told a soul," he said, "and I never will."

"Thank you, Carth—I know I could trust you with anything."

He smiled, said, "You'll tough it out. I know you can."

These words were strangely calming to her, and she felt a bit of relief at his confidence. She said, "Carth—you are the best man I know. Truthfully. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Just doing my duty, ma'am," he replied. His mental clock informed him that it had been five minutes, so he said, "I need to get to my ship. So this is goodbye. Take care of yourself, Bastila."

"You too, Carth," she said, "and thank you again."

"Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye, my friend."

They then parted ways. Carth hurried back to his shuttle, hoping that he and everyone he cared for would make it out of this mess alive. "Let's go, Dustil," he said to his son as they stepped into the shuttle.

* * *

The day dragged on towards dusk. Revan stood outside of the main entrance to the Temple, defended by the bulk of the Republic forces present. He was looking up to the darkening sky, watching for signs of anything. He could faintly discern the massive fleet of Republic ships in orbit over the planet. They were represented by very thin and almost indistinguishable slits of whiteness in the sky.

He pulled his hood over his head, preferring to brood in anonymity. He crossed his arms and oversaw the work the soldiers were doing. He watched for several minutes until suddenly a warning through the Force came to him, tugging at his soul. There feelings of death, doubt, explosions, and conflict. He looked up and saw that there was a new conglomeration of streaks in the air, coupled with explosions of color and fire.

_It has begun_, he thought to himself.

He let his lightsaber fall into his hands. Now there was nothing to do but wait.


	25. Chapter 24

_Author's Notes: Yay, the battle begins. I am done with this story, so the updates should be posted shortly. There's no point in waiting, really, as I don't usually get any feedback after the first few hours of posting. Heh. Thanks to __**Jen DeClan**__, __**Lord Europe**__, and __**Lord Valentai **__for reviewing. Cool stuff._

_This battle was ended up something like 17,000 words, so I broke it up into two chapters. Then an epilogue and we're done! Thanks for reading, peoples._

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

The Sith fleet tore into the Republic defenders with a tenacious sort of violence the navy had not witnessed since the wars with the Mandalorians. Hundreds upon hundreds of Sith ships—all of them ugly, formless, box-like vessels—blasted through hyperspace and appeared almost simultaneously in orbit around Coruscant. The attack was perfectly coordinated and several Republic ships were incinerated almost immediately. Explosions of color followed, the Republic filling the empty void of space with green turbolasers, red explosions signaling impacts. The Sith vessels were armed with massive cannons, flinging projectiles at several times the speed of sound through space. They were strong enough that one impact was almost enough to take out a frigate's entire shield. Two direct hits would destroy the ship.

The carriers fared better, but they were almost overwhelmed by the intensity.

Rear Admiral Onasi stood solemnly on the bridge of the _Reckoner_, watching the battle unfold.

"Sir!" cried out a young lieutenant who was working on the communications with the gun crews, "there's a swarm! Unidentified objects flying through space! They look like pods!"

"Concentrate the big guns on the main ships," replied the Admiral sternly, "the aft gunners can fire at will at the pods."

"Aye aye, sir," responded the lieutenant.

Carth looked over at his son, who was pacing back and forth, his fingers twitching. The Admiral sighed to himself and looked back out the sweeping viewport. A Republic fighter burst into flames and flew by like a comet.

* * *

The pods continued their meteoric falls through the atmosphere of Coruscant. They were too small to be accurately targeted by the Republic ships, and they slipped through the blockade with disturbing ease.

From the ground it looked as though some kind of demonic swarm of insects was descending upon the planet. There looked to be hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the black cylinders blasting through the atmosphere, fire erupting underneath them as they hurled downwards.

"What the hell are those?" Revan overheard a hapless soldier call out.

"Bombs!" answered an officer, "open fire!"

Almost all of the guns opened up at once. Green lasers launched through the air, perforating some of the pods, cleanly missing most of them. Flak had more success, but the ground crews simply could not fire fast enough to bring down the oncoming missiles.

The pods then starting striking the ground. Shockingly, they seemed to slow as they got closer to the surface. As though some kind of invisible chute was pulling them back up. They still struck, however, with force. The earth seemed to shake with each impact, blasting ash and debris into the air. They landed everywhere. Many struck the side of the Jedi Temple. Dozens fell into the midst of the Republic soldiers, tearing into the metal surface of the planet and crushing anyone who happened to standing in the drop zone. Much to their surprise, the pods didn't explode upon impact. They slammed into the ground and then held still.

Revan felt one coming towards him, and through an act of premonition, strode several steps to the left to avoid it. It impacted with the ground with tremendous force, blowing out two-dozen steps of the main entrance to the Temple. It skidded along for several yards, spewing dust and broken metal all over the place. It halted nearly four feet from Revan, and he regarded the obsidian thing with interest.

"What the hell?" shouted a solider, probably the same one as before.

There was a strange noise, it sounded like an airlock being opened. The front of the pod then burst open, the front of it collapsing and nearly knocking Revan down. Something screeched and a Sith soldier then flew out from inside the pod, firing an automatic rifle wildly. Two Republic soldiers, caught completely off guard, were perforated. Revan acted quickly, activating his lightsaber and ducking underneath the volley. He swept upwards, the green beam then slicing the Sith in half horizontally. He turned off the lightsaber and looked up.

A confused Republic man looked at the body for a moment and then screamed, "Shock troops!"

Revan looked up to see the horde of pods was still falling, raining from the sky with a frequency he would have thought impossible.

"Fire! _Fire!_" shouted a Colonel.

The gunners returned fire with even more intensity. They fired wildly and inaccurately, hoping to take down as many of the pods as possible. The Sith were popping up all over the place. Revan saw a few of them on the roof of the Temple. Throngs of them were wreaking havoc within the Republic ranks. And it was only the first wave.

* * *

Bullets bounced around his head, but thankfully they did not hit him. Caius had not even had the opportunity to get outside before he was attacked

Pockmarks broke out on the walls behind him as he turned about wildly, trying to determine where the fire was coming from. A Republic soldier next to him, however, turned and fired upward—blasting a lone Sith trooper from beneath and killing him.

"How the hell did that thing get up there?" asked someone.

"I don't know," said Caius. "Come on—we have to get outside."

He glanced out the window. Already he could see the fires. Smoke was billowing from hundreds of places, all around the city. The sky was turning dark orange, and soon breathing would be difficult with all of the ash. Light burst through the atmosphere as lasers and flak guns ripped into the sky.

* * *

"Quick!" barked Master Sergeant Antinos Verkand, a grim, weathered man who was in charge of the techs in the basement, "someone get on the power distribution node. We've lost the automated guns at the south entrance!"

Allie answered the call, leaping from her position behind some kind of geographic monitor and hurrying past the Sergeant and towards the node. They were in the state-of-the-art underbelly of the Jedi Temple—where all the electronics and observation equipment was situated. The monstrous power generator the fed the ODS was humming loudly in the background.

"Marlowe!" he said to Allie, "reroute the power from the upper floor to the south entrance. They don't need lights up there anyway."

"Yes, sir!" she said.

"Don't call me sir!" he shouted back, "I work for a living!"

Allie did not bother to ask him what he meant by that. She simply jetted off past the dozens of other mechanics and technicians who were scrambling around all the computers and machines, trying to keep the defenses in proper function.

"Vao!" called Verkand.

Mission, her knees on the ground as she was working on a busted circuit, leapt to her feet.

"What's the status on the generator?" he asked.

"I…hold on!" she said and then began sprinting towards it.

"Get on it!" he yelled.

* * *

Bastila was sitting alone in the very top of the temple. She was in the high council room. The few lights that had been on went dark, but she did not notice. She was too busy meditating; too busy channeling her Battle Meditation to notice anything else. She did her best to focus only on the Force. She tried harder than she ever had to push everything else to the back of her mind. She had to help the Republic soldiers. She had to lend her power to them; it was the only thing that could possibly swing the battle in the Republic's favor.

* * *

Despite Bastila's valiant attempt to inspire courage and victory within the defenders, the battle was not going well.

Caius bolted outside the Temple to the main entrance. He found Revan standing there, watching as the invasive pods continued to blast the surface of Coruscant—Sith soldiers popping out of the ground in ever increasing numbers. Though there were a good many pods that held only one soldier, there were many that shouldered anywhere from five to fifteen Sith in them—miniature dropships. Those caused much more chaos, as they were much more organized. The mayhem they created allowed for the singular Sith drop troops to have more success. They would then join the larger groups and make life hell for the Republic soldiers.

"What the hell are those?" Caius asked.

"Drop troops," answered Revan solemnly. "They're wreaking havoc behind the lines."

Caius stood and watched. There was nothing he could do at this point. The Sith were falling all over the place, but there was no coordinated attack. They seemed to have no plan behind their landings—they were simply trying to disrupt the Republic's battle lines as much as possible. It was working, too. There was nothing as terrifying as not knowing where the enemy was going to be, and then suddenly have him right in front of you. Even if these drop pods did not stand a chance of breaking the defense and getting into the Temple, it was still nerve-wracking.

"How are they getting through the blockade?" Caius asked.

"Too small," answered Revan, "the fleet can't target them effectively. They'll keep coming."

The Republic had never anticipated this kind of orbital parachuting, and had never erected a kind of bubble shield to protect the planet. Never mind the fact that there were no shields big enough to protect everything that needed guarding. That was why the shield network was set up to defend the ODSes. It was their job to keep any of the enemy ships from reaching the planets surface and glassing it. However, the Sith had an easy time of flying their pods through the blockade, exploiting this weakness.

Caius looked out into the fray. He saw dozens of massive figures fighting through the carnage, what would surely be the wookiees. _At least we have them on our side_, Caius thought.

* * *

HK-47 was at the front. He had made his way through the broken and confused battle stations and found where he calculated the Sith were falling with the greatest frequency. He gripped his heavy assault rifle with sadistic glee, eagerly awaiting the Sith.

He found himself in the company of a small squad that was barricaded behind a small pillbox of sandbags and barbed wire. They were responsible for guarding one of the many flak guns that were distributed throughout the battleground. They were led by a young and frazzled lieutenant named Stansfield.

"Where'd this droid come from?" one of the men asked in between the blasts of the flak gun.

"I don't know!" said Stansfield, "I thought there weren't any battle droids deployed!"

"Statement: I am no mere battle droid, meatbag."

"Yeah, well, you can leave you bastard. We don't want some kind of confused protocol droid out here!"

Before HK could reprimand the insolent man for his terrible error in judgment, a shrill screeching from above interrupted him.

"Cover!" shouted the lieutenant.

HK did not budge. The rest of the men hit the ground, ducking behind their little blockade. A Sith drop pod roared out of the smoky sky and careened straight towards them. HK watched it with interest as it slowed and then impacted the ground fifteen yards to his right with a tremendous thud. It blasted dust and twisted metal and brick up into the air, blocking everyone's line of sight.

"Where is it?" shouted one of the gunners.

HK was already on the move. He sprinted towards their embankment and then vaulted himself over it with one mechanical arm, holding his huge rifle with the other. He cleared another wall and then found the pod. It was just about to open, the metal casing cracking and then popping outwards. The force with which it sprang open would have broken the arm of any man who tried to stop it, but HK was much stronger than a man. He dented the casing and then punched it back inwards, smacking it against the Sith soldier inside. The droid then leaned to his left, allowing the now disfigured piece of metal to fall to the ground. He reached inside and grabbed the dazed Sith by the throat and then wrenched him out of the pod. He threw the creature to the ground and then planted his foot on his chest. There was a single shot from the assault rifle and the Sith's brains were blown out over the shattered concrete.

"Tally: One."

With that, HK turned to leave the small gun squad behind.

"Wait!" shouted Stansfield, "you can stay! You can stay!"

The assassin droid complied. He held his rifle up to his chassis and said, "Statement: I am glad to see you reformatted your thinking. Now—here comes another."

* * *

Admiral Onasi continued to watch the scene from the _Reckoner_'s command deck. Dustil stopped pacing and just sat on the ground, unsure what to do.

The space battle continued in a bit of a stalemate until his sight caught something. One of the orbital stations had lost its blue sheen, which couldn't have possibly been a good thing.

He looked to his left and saw two massive comets of fire arching towards the station, spewing debris behind them as they rocketed through the void. Their wake indicated they were streaming from the giant Sith dreadnaught.

It only took three seconds, and Carth just watched helplessly as the huge rockets tore into the defenseless station, shattering it into thousands of pieces almost instantly.

He put his hands on his head for a brief moment before regaining his composure. He turned and shouted to a communications officer, said, "Relay to Admiral Dodanna. Orbital Station in sector six has been destroyed."

He looked out the window and saw that the Sith fleet was immediately shifting its position. They seemed to be turning towards the opening in the blockade. They would attempt to wedge their way through and strike the planet's surface directly—there was no other explanation.

He continued his orders to the comms officer, said, "Relay to the rest of our CSG—move into position in sector six; we need to block off the hole and stop the leak."

"Right away, sir," came the response.

A hologram of Dodonna, from the _Vanguard_, showed up on a pedestal in front of him. She asked, "How far away are you from the gap?"

"Not close, ma'am," he responded, "but we should be able to get there quickly and block it off. If you can spare any more CSGs…it'd do us a world of good."

"I can make no guarantees, Admiral Onasi, but I'll do my best to reroute any potential help to the sector."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Carth.

The transmission cut and Carth felt the momentum of his carrier shift. His carrier group would attempt to cut off the enemy's and form a sort of salient, bottling them up behind the blockade. From there it would be a matter of shooting to bring them down.

* * *

"We've lost one," said Ostyl, looking over the communications feed as he and Grandmaster Nantaris were holed up in a small room in the mid level Jedi Temple.

"What? Lost one what?" asked Nantaris.

"Orbital Station," answered the Army Chief, "they took out the shield. Two shots from that massive dreadnaught and it was obliterated."

"Damn," said Nantaris, "what about the others?"

"Shields still up—for now," replied the man.

* * *

The Sith were, as expected, driving a wedge into the opening in the blockade. Several dozen ships jammed into the small sector and began unloading their cargo. Hundreds of dropships floated out of their gaping docking bays, which looked like nothing more than square holes in the sides of their vessels.

The stream of dropships continued towards the planets surface, spilling throughout the sky and redirecting in every which direction. The bulk of them, however, made their way towards the Jedi Temple. The waves of drop pods continued, but now they would have enough soldiers to lay siege to the Jedi building.

* * *

"Here they come," said Revan. As if to punctuate his sentence, he activated his green lightsaber and twirled it over his hand.

The wookiee Zaalbar howled some kind of war cry.

Caius, standing nearby, gripped his weapon as well, though he did not turn it on. He looked to see the unending river of dropships. They were smaller than their Republic counterparts, although they were very round. They looked almost like they shouldn't be able to fly—on the sides of their round bodies were two pairs of razor blade wings that jutted in four different directions. As they fell to the ground, metal parachutes opened up behind them and caught the air, slowing their descent.

It seemed like thousands of them were blocking out the sky. The ground-to-air guns blasted many of them out of the sky, but they continued to come. Flak lit up the darkened atmosphere, erupting into black clouds of shrapnel, tearing into the round hulls of the Sith ships.

They continued watching, the dropships landing and then spouting open their sides, dozens of Sith soldiers hopping out of them and toting their heavy guns with them.

"No use standing here," said Revan.

With that, both Jedi and the wookiee began making their way into the battle lines.

* * *

"Mira!" yelled Atton, "duck!"

"What?" she asked.

He dropped his yellow ligtsaber, the beam deactivating, as he dove towards her. Just as he had hit her and thrown her to the ground, a rocket screamed over their heads, whistling by harmlessly and then smashing into an embankment twenty yards behind them.

They scrambled to get back on their feet. Atton stayed on his hands and feet, trying desperately to find his dropped weapon. Just as he thought he saw it, the landing of a drop pod impeded his vision. The dust got in his eyes and he couldn't see. Two silhouettes formed in front of him, barely visible through the ash. He wiped his eyes and tried to see, and they kept coming towards him. He felt about blindly for his lightsaber, but couldn't find it.

The two figures got closer and he realized they were Sith. One of them howled something and they both raised their weapons to fire. He heard a sharp explosion and winced, but found that he did not die. He opened his eyes a crack and saw the red lasers had rent straight through the two Sith and they dropped to the ground in front of him, dead.

Another silhouette formed behind their dead bodies, but this one was friendly. Through the ash he recognized the soldier as one of the Republic shock troops, the unmistakable blue visor giving him away.

The soldier ran up towards him and stepped over the two dead Sith. He held out his hand and said, "Master Jedi—are you all right?"

"Yeah…" Atton coughed, "I'm fine."

The shock trooper raised him from the ground. Without so much as another word, he took off, disappearing into the dust.

Atton looked around his feet, scouring for his weapon. He glanced up when he heard a faint humming and saw a yellow beam coming towards him. Mira then came out of the veil of dust and offered him his saber, holding her own yellow one in her other hand.

"Don't lose this," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, taking the weapon.

* * *

Admiral Onasi watched from his ship, staring in complete bewilderment at the Sith frigate in front of him. His CSG had arrived at the hole in sector six very quickly, and they were now attempting to break through the Sith wedge and cut off the ships inside Coruscant's atmosphere from any support. What he could not understand, however, was how much punishment a single Sith vessel could take.

As he watched this frigate, he tried to count how many times the massive turbolasers on the Republic cruisers struck it, but he lost count. It absorbed so many shots that it did not seem possible. There was no indication of a shield or anything. It just took the brunt of the assault and continued pushing closer to the planet's surface.

Befuddled, Carth contacted Dodonna again.

"Admiral," he said to her hologram, "have you been able to destroy any of the Sith vessels?"

She replied, "They're being…stubborn."

"I have watched the same frigate get pelted with volley after volley of turbolasers, and it is showing no ill effects."

There was a brief meeting at the other end with several men and women of high rank than Carth. At length, Dodonna said, "We are having the same problem."

"I don't understand," said Onasi, "even our ships, with shields fully operational, could not take this much damage."

"I do not know…" she answered.

Carth mused. After he pondered for a second, he was finally presented with a welcome sight. The bow of the frigate was suddenly crushed and fire exploded outward from the gaping holes on its side. It bent and then broke in half, flames beginning to consume it.

"Captain!" bellowed Onasi, "how long were we firing at that frigate?"

"A good twenty minutes, sir," responded the man.

Carth grumbled to himself, he did not understand this at all.

"Get word down to Nantaris," said Dodonna, "and Ostyl. Tell them to find Revan.

* * *

The lines were fluctuating now. The Sith were hitting them with a much more organized assault. They had unloaded artillery and tanks, and were now spraying them with flamethrowers for good measure. The Republic was counteracting with large walkers and huge stationary guns of their own, but the Sith had numbers on them and they were steadily pushing them farther back towards the temple. From the rear, the big artillery was shelling the Temple with everything it had. Frequently, it missed, but the vollies almost always took out a tremendous number of Republic soldiers.

Caius, Revan, and Zaalbar were doing the best they could to stem the tide.

The Exile flung his blue saber through the air, cleaving one Sith soldier in half. He then ducked as a rocket flew over his head, nailing a hapless shock trooper behind him and blasting him into oblivion. He could feel stuff landing on his as he fought—liquid, almost assuredly blood and pieces of allies and enemies.

The Sith were forcing their way through the middle of the line, straight towards the main temple entrance. They were forming a bottleneck.

Revan was shouting to Zaalbar, "Send your troops around front and to the side! If we can surround the salient we can box them in!"

The wookiee roared in approval.

His roar was interrupted by a Sith screech, as one of the drop troops vaulted itself at Revan and began swiping a sword at the Jedi wildly. Revan ducked underneath one blow and then stepped backwards to avoid a vertical swipe. The Sith was preoccupied and forgot that Zaalbar was nearby. The wookiee jumped towards the two and then grabbed the Sith from behind. He crushed its shoulders instantly, cracking its bones and rendering it incapable of fighting. He let his grip slide down to one of its arms and then he catapulted it through the air and into the mess of fighting troops that was surrounding them, never to be seen again.

"Thanks, Zaalbar," said Revan.

Caius, dueling his own Sith soldier, bounced a sword blow off of his lightsaber and then used to the Force to vault the creature the same direction.

Zaalbar roared.

"What did he say?" Caius asked Revan.

"He said that you almost threw it as far as he did."

Caius sighed and then resigned to joining them as they began to enact their bottleneck plan. He and Revan went one direction, and Zaalbar the other. As they fought their way through the battle, killing three or four Sith, they came across HK, who was in the process of burning a Sith alive with his flamethrower.

"Tally: Thirty-two."

"You're keeping track?" Caius asked him.

"Answer: Correct. I must always try to top myself. My personal record is one hundred and seventy-six, accomplished on the Star Forge with the Jedi Revan."

Caius coughed, though he wasn't sure if he was astounded at HK or if the ashes in the air really made him cough.

"Grenade!" shouted a nearby soldier.

Caius spun around, looking for a safe place to take cover.

HK, however, was not alarmed. He took a step to his left and then stooped down to pick up the little explosive. He held it in one hand and inspected it with curiosity. He seemed to pick at it for a moment, and then he dropped it to the ground. He said, "Statement: These Sithbag weapons astound me. They are so simplistic. That will not do, that will not do at all."

It took a while for Caius to determine that the grenade was not actually going to explode, and he came out from behind a broken concrete wall. As he emerged, he was presented with a courier, sprinting as fast as he could towards him. Out of breath, the young man put his hands on his needs and then shakily adjusted the helmet on his small head.

"What is it?" Caius asked, sensing the message was for him.

"Relay from Nantaris—he requests that you and Jedi Revan get back into the Jedi Temple. Immediately."

Caius looked at Revan, who said nothing, but let the message process. "I guess," began the Exile, "we should go?"

"We shall," answered Revan, "but this had better be important."

* * *

"Do you have any explanation for this?" Nantaris shouted.

Caius and Revan stood in front of the Grandmaster as they bore witness to his panicked rage.

"First the nuke doesn't destroy their dreadnaught—we can pass that off as some kind of aberration that we cannot explain. But now this?" he vented, "It takes more firepower to destroy one of those Sith frigates than it took Malak to level Taris to the ground. Why?"

Caius had no answer—he did not know.

Nantaris continued, "You were there with the Sith! You knew what they were up to! What is this? Why the hell are they so difficult to destroy?"

"I…I do not…know," said Revan.

"We had better find out," said Nantaris, "because soon they'll overrun the planet."

"Give me…" stuttered Revan, "some time. I need…to think." He put his hand on the side of his face and instinctively felt the scar that Caius had given him.

* * *

"Concentrate all your fire on the dreadnaught!" shouted Carth.

His CSG was pouring everything it had into the monstrous Sith Capital ship, but to no avail. His cruisers were firing volley after volley, and his fighters were trying desperately to destroy anything—the rudder, the fuel cells, the viewport on the bow, but they had no success at all.

The Sith wedge was driving deeper pushing the Republic ships further apart and separating one half of the defense fleet from the other. The dreadnaught was forcing its way through as well, seemingly unstoppable. No amount of fire could deter it, and it was blasting its way through the defenses and straight down towards the planet below.

Carth saw another of the orbital stations light up from within, flames consuming it.

"We can't stop it," muttered Dustil to himself.

* * *

A smaller ship in Carth's CSG, a destroyer by the name of _Serocco_, was caught right in the dreadnaught's warpath. It had, in a valiant effort to prevent the Sith from advancing, wandered too far away from the other ships, and was now almost isolated. The dreadnaught was bearing down right towards it.

"Hard to starboard!" shouted the _Serocco_'s captain.

The ship lurched in an effort to get out of the way, but it could not move fast enough.

"Bank!" the captain continued.

Not enough.

"Brace for impact!" shouted an officer.

The captain grabbed onto a console nearby, hoping to avoid the worst. There was a moment of peace before the ship was suddenly torn in two. It shuddered with tremendous violence, throwing everyone to the ground. The captain was jolted and he let go of the console. As he flailed, he looked out the viewport and saw that the planet below was twisting out of view. The bow was thrown upwards and he caught sight of the side of the dreadnaught before the bridge collapsed on itself and he was killed.

* * *

On the ground, many of the soldiers watched in horror as the Sith dreadnaught had just rammed straight through the _Serocco_, shredding it into pieces. The massive ship continued on, undaunted by the debris of the broken ship, speeding straight down. Its bow was pointed at the earth and it seemed to be intent on blasting its way all the way down to the planet's surface.

It descended several thousand feet before beginning to slow up, though it still held its facedown position. It came to almost a complete stop after several minutes of perceived freefall, then stopped in the vicinity of the Senate.

As everyone who could see it regarded it with curiosity, the ship began to power up. Underneath its square bow, inside some kind of crescent-like vent, an incandescent white light began to slowly grow into a massive ball of flame. It pulsated like lit magnesium as it grew in size. From the Jedi Temple, the entire spectacle was clearly visible.

The light built up for two minutes, reaching its crescendo. Almost instantly, it disappeared. For five seconds it was gone. Then, just as suddenly as it had vanished, it reappeared. An enormously thick beam shot out from underneath the bow and reached down to the planet's surface. Pure white energy ran down from the ship in a stream, falling all over the city.

The light continued to pour, with no conceivable effects, until the faucet turned off. The light vanished without a trace. When the last of it struck the ground, then the spectacle began.

The buildings in the area it had attacked were immediately enveloped in a monstrous ball of fire, expanding outwards and disintegrating anything it came across. It cast shock waves in every direction—their force so great that it threw almost every soldier on the surface, Sith or Republic, to the ground.

The ball of fire continued to expand greater and greater until it eventually stretched itself too thin and dissipated. Behind it there was nothing. Merely a great black crater filled with the ashen debris of what had once been part of Coruscant's planet-wide city.

* * *

"Bloody hell," said Carth, "damn it all."

He had not seen the white beam, but he could clearly see the after effects, as the range of its destruction was so large that one could see it even from space.

"Two more orbital stations have been destroyed…" informed a lieutenant.

Carth turned to the comms officer, said, "Contact Dodonna…"

He waited for a moment before her hologram again appeared before him. Her figure disturbed him, as she was hunched over and she instinctively put her hand over her head as the image shook.

"Admiral Onas—" the image hiccupped, "under heavy fire…send imm—"

With that, the hologram flickered and died. Carth instinctively looked out the viewport to see, although Dodonna's ship was far too distant to see what had happened.

The comms officer tried to reestablish contact. He spoke three or four times and then resigned. He turned and said what Carth knew in his gut. "Sir," began the officer, "we've lost the _Vanguard_."

Carth just put his hand on his forehead. There was nothing to say, nothing to do. There was just nothing. It could not get any worse.

* * *

The Republic fleet scrambled to try to move and prevent the Sith dreadnaught from causing any more damage, or moving over the Jedi Temple. However, at this point, the orbital stations had been nearly rendered useless. Protecting the Temple for the sake of the generator would have been for the sake of a symbol. The real prize at the Temple was that the bulk of the Republic army was there. The entire Sith fleet was now moving in towards the planet's surface, and the dreadnaught continued to lay waste to the cityscape.

The Republic was concentrating everything it had on the dreadnaught, but it was simply shrugging off the damage as though it were nothing. It continued on undaunted.

Revan, who had been pacing about the Jedi Temple, had had an epiphany. There was something, something he thought he had learned about Ardashir long ago. But the proposition had seemed so foolish to him that he had not paid it any heed. Now, he realized, he had to figure out what this was.

He remembered, back on Malacandra, when Hsintah had informed him of something Ardashir was working on. An archaic form of Sith magic that would bind inanimate objects together. They would be tied together, and as one endured, the objects could suffer no decay or destruction. It was intended for shield use, but it never worked. According to the reports, the initial tests of such magic failed miserably, resulting in the deaths of all involved. He had never considered that Ardashir might actually perfect a method. Though now it seemed he had.

He approached a nearly frantic Nantaris and tapped him on the shoulder almost suavely.

Nantaris shook his head quickly and blinked, asked, "What? Do you know something?"

"That ship," said Revan, "I know what it is now."

"Out with it, then, lad!" said an impatient Grandmaster.

"It's called the _Aegis_," answered Revan. "I always found the name funny, but now I realize why Ardashir chose it. He used some kind of archaic Sith magic; some kind of energy field that he wanted to trace back to Naga Sadow. It was…purely hypothetical…but he seems to have done it. The ship is like a microcosm of the Force. It is the propagator of an energy field that binds the entire Sith fleet together. It strengthens them through the field as they call on it. As long as it endures, they will be able to bind themselves together as a cohesive unit in the Force—and it makes them almost impossible to kill."

"Then why is the _Aegis _itself invincible?" asked Nantaris.

"I don't…I don't know," answered Revan. "It shouldn't be. It should be just as vulnerable as our ships—it can't cast the field on itself."

"Well, that helps—because it clearly is," said the Grandmaster angrily.

"No—it's doing something else…"

Nantaris furrowed his brow. This wasn't helping.

"Perhaps…" began Revan, "it is empowered by Ardashir himself. He has a taste for the…theatrical…"

"Nihilus!" said Nantaris, "the _Ravager_! That was what Darth Nihilus did with his ship. It was bound to his soul. Once he was destroyed it was easily dispensed with."

"That is what we must do, then," said Revan. "It is our only option."

"Board the dreadnaught?" asked Nantaris incredulously. "How can we do that?"

"Send everything we have," answered the Prodigal Knight. "They have no shields—if we can blast our way into the hanger, we should be able to land."

"It's suicide."

"So is not doing it."

Nantaris frowned, conceded, "You are right there." He took a deep breath, looked around, said, "Quick—assemble all the Jedi you can find. As well as all of the shock troops we have available. We need our best men."

As soon as Revan departed, Nantaris sighed deeply and closed his eyes. The odds were impossible. This was it—this was the last night of the Republic. He opened his eyes and looked out over the horizon. The dirt and dust was unbelievably thick—and the fires were raging out of control. Coruscant had never, in the thousands of years of its existence, suffered this terribly.

His thoughts were interrupted by an awkwardly halted set of footsteps. He turned around to see Bastila Shan stumble towards him and almost fall on the ground. She tripped, but he caught her and stood her up. He said, "Bastila! What's wrong!"

"I can't…" she began, "I can't do it anymore. I tried…I am…spent." She choked down a sigh and fell to her knees. "I need to rest."

Nantaris knew how important her Battle Meditation was, but he knew that the poor girl could kill herself from exhaustion if she tried too hard. It looked like she was completely emptied. He thought for a moment and then realized that her power was useless at this point anyway. For Battle Meditation to be effective, there had to be a battle. This was not a battle, it was a rout. A massacre.

* * *

"We're being boarded!" cried out the ship's captain.

Carth closed his eyes to let the words sink in. There wasn't much to say. "Send every available hand to meet them. If they break in further, quarantine the section of the ship and break the airlock—we'll turn it into a vacuum."

He turned around to see Dustil staring at him. His son said, "Dad—let me go. I can help."

"No—you can't. You should not fight. You're still recovering."

"We'll be dead, anyway," he answered solemnly. "I can help. I can inspire them just by being there. You know how the soldiers feel about Jedi."

"I…" began Carth. He then sighed and lowered his shoulders, said, "You're right. Go…just don't do anything rash, Dustil."

His son nodded and then he departed.

* * *

They scrambled and gathered as many Jedi as were available. There were not many left at all. Revan, Caius, Atton, Mira, and three others—two women and an older man—were all that remained.

They met hastily in one of the hangers of the Jedi Temple. Pieces of the ceiling frequently fell to the ground, plaster threatening to smack them on the head, as perpetual bombardment was taking its toll on the Temple. A noticeably frazzled but determined Nantaris was briefing them on their mission.

"You'll have to go in with a fighter escort, any single-manned ships that we can spare. There's chaos in the skies, dogfights are raging out of control, so you'll have to avoid them. Head straight to the _Aegis_ and do nothing else. Two small destroyers will attempt to provide cover and draw their fire. Blast your way into the hanger. The other fighters and dropships will join you there. We're sparing everyone we can." He swallowed and looked at their stern faces, continued, "Some soldiers from the Twenty-Third will join you there with the bombs. The Jedi will head to the bridge and find Ardashir. Once he's dead, set the charges and get the hell out of there."

They all looked worried about the improbability of success.

"Remember the _Ravager_, lads," he tried to console them, "we've done this before."

As he finished his sentence, Bastila joined the congregation, moving in with the rest of the Jedi.

Nantaris looked at her warily, unsure if he should forbid her from going. She gave her answer and said, "I am going with them."

"You could barely stand twenty minutes ago, lass," he said.

"I am fine. They will need all the help they can get," she supplied, glancing at Revan sideways as she said it.

"Very well," said Nantaris. The hanger then shook as a missile slammed into the top of the temple. "Now we just need a ship."

"We're taking the _Hawk_," said Caius. "She's gotten us this far."

"Can anyone fly it?" asked Nantaris.

Caius let his eyes wander to all of the Jedi present. He could not fly, this he knew. Bastila had a little flying experience, but that was it. Revan and Mira, he did not know—same for the other Jedi. Atton, however, could certainly do it. He raised his hand to volunteer. Before he could speak, however, a voice from behind—near the entrance to the bay—interrupted them.

"I'll do it," it said.

Nantaris wheeled around to find Elliott Gallenti was strolling confidently towards them. "I'll drive," he repeated.

No one had any qualms with this. If anything, it added one more man to the crew. If Atton had flown, he would have had to stay behind and man the ship when they went in. This way, he could join the strike team and add much-needed support.

Nantaris nodded.

"Rock and roll," said Elliott.

* * *

The Jedi hurried to get ready. It took almost no time for all of them, plus a handful of the Republic shock troops, to get ready for lift off. Nantaris watched grimly as they crammed themselves into the _Hawk_. Five minutes later, he saw the ship lift off of the ground and rotate backwards, out of the bay.

His stomach leapt into his throat as a missile very nearly smacked straight into the freighter, almost ending their excursion right then, but luckily they avoided the shot. The ship then twisted and faded from view.

The Grandmaster turned around, felt the Temple shudder again. He stabilized himself and hurried to the front entrance, hoping to see how the battle was progressing. Communication was almost useless, and he had long since lost contact with Ostyl. He had no idea what was happening at the front of the Temple. He hurried outside and stood at the top of the infamous staircase, looking down across the panorama.

He saw absolute anarchy was reigning. The Sith had punched several deep wedges into the Republic lines and were turning and attacking every direction, many of the Republic soldiers getting isolated in pockets behind the advancing enemy. These little havens were snuffed out quickly.

He saw the fires were continuing to spread throughout the city, burning down hundreds of buildings. It was almost dark out, but the light from the explosions and flares and rockets kept the battleground very illuminated. As a missile streaked overhead, he looked down to see a half-gone soldier lying sprawled at his feet. The man's eyes were still open. Nantaris knelt down and shut them, giving a little respect for the deceased soldier.

He heard bullets bounce off of the steps around him, but he did not move. He simply held his ground and looked up. It looked as though the Republic soldiers had all turned and were initiating a massive retreat. The problem was that there was nowhere to go—just get closer to the Temple, which offered them no safety at all.

As he stood up, he saw a figure approaching him. The man was limping along quickly, his left leg apparently wounded. The man came closer and Nantaris was able to determine through the sporadic light of the discharged weapons that he was seeing Major General Eherr. The man was completely shell shocked. He staggered forward; his beard blasted upwards and part of it singed off. The man's eyes told Nantaris all he needed to know—the battle was all but lost.

"Eherr!" he called out to the man as he approached, shouting above the din of explosions and the wailing of the wounded, "where is your division?"

Eherr, who seemed almost totally uncomprehending, took another half-hearted step before falling to one knee and trying to stabilize himself on a large piece of rubble.

"Master Jedi…" he said quietly, his voice creaking, "I have…no division."

Nantaris looked away. The ground battle was truly lost. They would have to pull back inside the Temple and hope to keep the Sith out as long as possible. Just hope to survive long enough to see if Caius's suicide mission even had the opportunity to play out.

He looked up to see an orbital station, one of the three or so remaining, attempt to strike the _Aegis. _The shot sailed past the massive dreadnaught and, unfortunately, screamed straight into the Coruscanti surface, leveling almost an entire district itself.

In the light from the explosion, he caught a faint glimpse of the _Ebon Hawk_. Just briefly, he saw it soar through the air, twisting and rolling to avoid fire and shake enemy fighters. His hopes were hinged on just that tiny freighter and its escort.

As he watched the small ship spin and valiantly attempt to make its way to the enemy dreadnaught, he felt a tugging despite to make a silent prayer on its behalf. He wanted to wish them well; he wanted to bless them with the Force.

But he shut out these feelings as he looked around and saw the carnage. _The Force is not with us_, he thought to himself, _it never has been_.


	26. Chapter 25

_Author's Notes: Okay, the last major chapter. This and then the epilogue. So close!_

_I'm also really close to 100 reviews (okay, not really) but it would sure be __**cool **__if I got there. And that's all I'll say. :P Though I imagine there will be some…reaction…to this chapter… Anywho._

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

The _Hawk _spun through the debris-filled air, twisting and yawing and trying to make its way through the chaotic atmosphere. Elliott and Atton worked feverishly to keep the ship in control while employing every technique ever learned about evasive action and piloting in a warzone.

An atmosphere of stressed silence pervaded the ship. No one on board spoke. They simply waited and silently hoped and prayed that they would find success.

Caius, as he sat strapped into one of the available chairs, noticed that his hands were shaking. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He held his hand flat and concentrated on it, but to no avail. It just kept there, like it was shivering in the cold.

Outside of the _Hawk_'s viewport, the _Aegis_ was drawing closer. It grew in size to the point that it almost enveloped their entire line of sight. Another piercing white beam shot out of its snout, tearing Coruscant's surface asunder.

As soon as they were close enough, the dreadnaught opened fire on them. Hundreds of guns lit up at once, spraying bullets and firing rockets and missiles at them. Elliott valiantly dodged and weaved through them, spinning the ship around several times. All around them, Republic fighters and troop transports were being blasted out of the sky, draining them of precious few resources necessary for the landing.

Closer they came, until two Republic destroyers offered some relief. They sped around to the side of the massive dreadnaught, drawing fire and shielding the smaller ships for the torrent of guns that had been targeting them. The destroyers fired wildly and inaccurately at the Sith docking bays, hoping to clear out as many of the enemy as possible.

The _Hawk _maneuvered through the falling wreckage, pieces of broken Republic ships careening through the atmosphere with alarming speed, and barreled straight towards the enemy ship at a speed that only the _Hawk _could achieve.

There was a brief window, and Elliott took it. The Sith ship had sustained the bombardment, but many of the soldiers and guns inside the docking bays had been taken out. If he could navigate the bullet hoses that were spraying out of the hull of the ship, he could get a clean look at a landing.

He sent the ship into a barrel roll and pitched the freighter straight into the bay. In a maneuver that appeared suicidal, he banked hard to the left and brought the _Hawk _around in a full semi-circle, flying through the massive bay, letting the _Hawk_'s automated turrets do a little damage to the ground troops.

The destroyers continued their sweep of the hangers, although one of the ships appeared to be in critical condition as fires were beginning to break out of its port side hull. Their impartial assault had leveled most of the Sith in the bays, as well as destroyed a good amount of equipment.

As the _Hawk _spun around and slowed to a hover, dozens of other Republic ships joined it in storming through the bay, spraying lasers everywhere. Several fighters roared past behind them, escorting in at least half a dozen Republic dropships—a number far greater than they expected.

The crew of the _Hawk _hurried out of the freighter at an almost breakneck speed, sprinting down he loading ramp and meeting the others. The dropships were operating at a similar pace, the soldiers hurrying along as though the battle were timed. Dozens of Republic shock troops—what remained of the Fourth and Twenty-Third Divisions—poured out of the ships, many of them carrying large explosives as well as their weapons and armor.

As Caius leaped down from the _Hawk_'s ramp, he looked up and out towards the burning orange skyline. Another dropship, he saw, was careening towards them. It was on fire at the rear, but it was still in line to land in the bay—or at least crash. It streaked through the air, and as it drew near, Caius saw that part of the hull was blown off. On that side, an orange figure—the same color as the burnt atmosphere of the planet—was hanging off of the side. It drew near and then a single laser flew from it and over Caius's head, nailing a Sith who had been fighting off the Republic boarders.

Caius turned back around to see the dropship fall onto the bay's surface and skid to a screeching halt. On its side, HK-47 stood proudly, holding onto the warped metal with one hand. As the ship finally died, the droid hopped down from his perch and said, "Greeting: Master, fancy seeing you here." In between words he squeezed his trigger again and nailed another Sith. Caius just watched, surprised and not-surprised at the same time. "Tally:" said HK, "one hundred and twenty-eight."

"Gonna break your record?" Caius asked.

"Answer: I believe so, master. Extraordinary timing, is it not?"

The firefight continued to rage around them, but the Republic shock troops were gaining the upper hand, separating the Sith into corners and finishing them off. They secured the area, or did so as best as they could, and allowed the Jedi about a minute to enact a plan.

"We'll split up," announced Revan, and then he divided up the two teams. Mira and Atton would go with one of the two Jedi women that Caius did not know, and they would join the large number of soldiers who would arm the bombs near the stern of the ship. HK, wanting to be near as much destruction as possible, opted to join them. The rest, Caius, Revan, Bastila, two other Jedi, and the remaining Republic troops, would head to the bridge where it was expected that they would find Ardashir.

Timing was of the essence, as the bombs would not destroy the ship unless Ardashir was slain, as the ship thrived on his soul, bound to him. As soon as Ardashir was eliminated, then the bombs would be armed—an irreversible process. The two teams would then have barely fifteen minutes to escape the way they came. If they did not, then they would perish with the ship.

"Let's do it," said Atton.

* * *

The Republic fleet was totally broken by now. Confusion reigned, as the lines and battle groups had been broken and scattered. Some of the ships were down near the surface, trying to keep the dreadnaught away from the Jedi Temple and the remaining Coruscant landmarks. Some of them were still wandering through the wreckage in space. Most of them were destroyed.

Three Orbital Stations still remained, but their effectiveness was very limited. They could not fire down below upon the ravaging Sith fleet as a missed shot would only increase damage. They were then limited to firing upon the Sith ships still engaging the tattered Republic fleet in orbit.

Carth only watched helplessly as the scenes were unfolding. There was nothing he could do now about the space battle. All he could do was hope to keep his ship alive, but even then his only role now was to listen to the frantic reports coming from the starboard side of the ship where the Sith boarders had landed. He hoped silently that his son would not be hurt.

Looking down towards the surface of Coruscant, watching as it drew closer. He observed the _Aegis_, creeping ever so slowly towards the Jedi Temple.

* * *

Dustil just barely pulled out his green lightsaber to stop a Sith sword from cutting into him. He flipped it around and cleaved off the Sith's hand, then stabbing it in the chest and killing it. _So much for taking it easy_, he thought.

He turned and ran towards the retreating Republic allies. They were falling back from the points of boarding as the Sith were simply too numerous and too well equipped. The repelling force consisted mainly of sailors and other ship personnel, not actual soldiers. They were not nearly strong or trained enough to repel the boarders. Dustil sprinted to catch up with them as they fell back, desperate not to isolate himself. He could hear the Sith approaching behind him.

He spun around the corner and saw the Republic defenders erecting a makeshift barricade to hide behind. He jumped over it and turned around just in time to see the Sith come around and open fire. He used the Force to throw some of them backwards, and then even opened up a singularity and caused all kinds of chaos as debris and bodies began spinning through the air and colliding with the Sith attackers.

This, however, did not prevent them from advancing. As they gunned down five of the Republic defenders, they turned once again to flee. They had to make their way towards the next door, as it was the last that connected to the emergency compartments of the ship, which could be turned into a vacuum if necessary. If caught inside, the Republic troops would be deprived of air and suffocated.

Dustil hopped to his feet to follow. He pushed hard as he ran, but before he could make it to the doorway, he felt a sharp pain knife through his leg and he stumbled and fell to the ground. He instinctively grabbed his thigh and winced in pain. He tried to get up, but the pain in his leg was too great to put weight on.

He spun around and found himself with his back to the doorway and watching the Sith advance. He pulled out his lightsaber and held in front of himself, even though he was on the ground, and prepared to go to his death.

"Shut the door!" he yelled to those on the other side.

The Sith came running towards him, guns ready, and he was prepared to die—just like Xristos had.

"Master Jedi!" cried someone from behind him. Before Dustil could embrace his martyrdom, he felt two hands grab him under the arms and he was pulled backwards, his bad leg dragging painfully across the ground.

He was barely conscious of what was going on until he noticed that he had passed through the doorway. Someone slammed the button and the airlock began to close. The Sith, from the other side, fired through the closing gateway. Bullets sprayed everywhere, striking the man who saved Dustil and killing him.

The Jedi looked up from his position on the ground and saw the door seal tight, heard bullets pinging against it from the other side.

The vacuum was then activated, and then he heard the Sith howling as the struggled for air. It was the last thing he remembered as he passed out from blood loss shortly afterwards.

* * *

"What was that noise?" asked Mission to no one in particular.

She thought for sure she had heard an explosive grinding noise, but no one else had, apparently.

The exhausted group of technicians continued to work away at the control room, monitoring the shield generator and diverting energy to all the right places around the Temple. Little did they know how poorly the battle was going.

There was another minute of relative peace before Mission heard it again, and this time she was certain.

"I know I heard something!" she said.

As she finished her sentence, the wall nearby the power generator blew outwards, shattering into thousands of pieces. Alarms started blaring, dust was blown everywhere, blocking everyone's sight. And the ceiling started caving in. There was another explosion and a second wall was blasted into oblivion. This time, the explosion was followed by gunfire. Sith soldiers started pouring in through the holes and slaying everyone inside the basement.

Allie had been, by chance, at the far end of the room, and had not been as affected by the explosion. The Sith were swarming inside from all directions, and she did not have much time. She ran over to the exit and opened the door, shouted, "Quick! We have to get outside!"

A few lucky technicians ran towards the exit as she waited. The Sith were running all around, apparently indifferent towards her. Thinking quickly, she reached down for a steel pipe that had been blown out of the wall. When she stood back up, a Sith was coming straight towards her with a sword. She swung first and managed to slash it across the face with a violent backhanded swing. She hit its face with such force that its head spun backwards and its neck broke, sending it to the ground in a heap.

Just as it hit the ground, Mission leaped over the body and ran towards the exit.

Allie turned to leave, but saw Sergeant Verkand hobbling in as well, and she determined to hold the door open as long as possible. As he came running, there was another explosion—this one more deadly than the first two—and the roof began to cave. Allie braced and closed her eyes, hoping that nothing would happen to her. She blindly went for the exit, still feeling that she was alive. She jumped through the frame and turned around. Verkand had fallen to his knees, as the collapsing roof had thrown him to the ground. He tried to get up, but before he could a steel beam fell straight down and impaled him through the back. He sank to the ground and rolled to the side.

Allie looked on in horror, almost frozen. Somehow, the man retained consciousness and gazed up at her with a scandalized expression. "_Run_…" he croaked weakly.

She slammed the button to shut the door and then fried it with her blaster, hoping that it would keep the Sith back for a little while.

She ran up the little flight of stairs and out into a hallway. She, for the first time, saw outside and noticed immediately how terribly bad the battle had gone for the Republic. She saw all of the fires and the destruction and the countless dead—all of it almost right in front of the Temple. It took her a moment to notice the mob of people scrambling by without purpose. She looked down and saw Mission on the ground, holding her left arm—blood seeping through her sleeve. T3 was there, too.

Allie grabbed Mission's other arm and pulled her off the ground as gently as possible. "We have to get out of here," she said.

"Where?" asked the haggard voice of an old man from behind her, "where is there to go?"

She wheeled around and was shocked to find that the very Chancellor of the Republic, Quintus Sertorius, was standing—or at least, trying to stand—right by her, mixed in with the refugees and people fleeing for their lives. This is what the Republic had been reduced to. As she saw him, she thought that he looked disturbingly old and sickly. It was as if he had aged one hundred years in the past week. His skin was wrinkled and his hair was pure white. A famous soldier, he bore a deep scar that ran vertically over his left eye.

Allie thought for a moment before taking the lead and saying, "We have to go higher!" She looked and saw that no one else had any suggestions, so she added, "The Council Room—we'll go to the Council Room! Follow me!"

* * *

Caius jammed his lightsaber into the leg of an attacking Sith soldier, stabbing it in deep. He grabbed the Sith's shoulder and pulled it downwards, spinning around in the process. He flipped the Sith over and took its leg off in the process.

The other Jedi were fighting valiantly. The Sith were surprised to have been boarded, but if anything they fought more tenaciously.

Bastila pirouetted elegantly and sliced two Sith in half in her spin, and Revan preferred to let the Force do his dirty work—vaulting Sith across the room and breaking necks and limbs from afar. The other Jedi fought with their swords and the Republic shock troops tried as hard as they could to not get caught in the crossfire. They inadvertently aided the Jedi, however, as they never hit them with friendly fire, but always distracted the Sith.

The inside was absolute anarchy as they progressed through the innards of the great vessel. Alarms were ringing wildly, and Sith were scrambling everywhere. Revan and his crew made very slow progress as a result.

The ship was not dissimilar to its Republic counterparts. The walls were solid and without any decoration, just some lines. Their orangeish tan coloration cast the environment in a strange auburn hue as they fought—which Caius felt added to the battle ambiance. It was a somewhat violent color.

The group marauded through a short hallway and arrived at a shut door. Caius decided to ask, as two Republic soldiers finished off a straggler Sith, "Revan—do you know you're way around this thing?"

"No," he answered simply, "but if it's anything like their other ships, we should be able to find the bridge."

One of the troops began tinkering with the lock, attaching a small device that would melt through the controls and open the door.

"How is it," Caius began, "that this ship is so much bigger than the others?"

"I never really knew," Revan answered, "I assumed it was because of Ardashir's penchant for the theatric; now I realize that it was part of his scheme to create this Force microcosm—though I still attribute the size to theatrics."

"Maybe he's compensating," added the locksmith soldier.

With that, the lock blew out and the door opened. Two dozen Sith were there waiting for them. They opened fire immediately.

Bastila cast a protective shield in front of them, blocking off the door and scattering the enemy bullets. Revan threw them all backwards with a blast of power and then the Jedi charged into the room.

* * *

The shot was precise, and the Sith's head exploded as a blaster bolt hit it right between the eyes.

"Tally: One hundred fifty-two."

"Would you _quit _counting," said Mira as she deactivated her lightsaber, "you're driving me insane. It's like water torture."

"Statement: I cannot, meatbag."

Mira sighed with disgust. She turned to Atton, who was trying to determine which door they should open.

"Master Jedi," began one of the Republic men, "I believe that, structurally, it would make the most sense if this door leads to the engine rooms." He gestured to one on the right side of the room they were in.

The rest of the Republic soldiers all joined them, a good number still alive. Atton answered, "But the Sith tend not to make sense."

"That is a good point," replied Mira.

HK then began, "Statement: My scanning readouts and calculations are congruent with the soldier meatbag's analysis. The engines should be this way."

"Good enough for me," Atton shrugged, "we still got all the charges?"

"Yes, sir," answered one of the masked troopers.

"Then let's get going."

* * *

Elliott was waiting inside the _Hawk _nervously. He had all of the guns on auto-target, and the Republic soldiers had sabotaged the defenses inside the hanger to fire upon Sith allies, but these things were of little consolation. He was left just sitting on his hands in enemy territory, and he did not like it.

He was not even alone, there were several of the Republic troops outside the ship on guard, but he was not at peace. He wouldn't be until they touched down again.

He had to force his anxiety down, however, as there was nothing he could do.

* * *

Outside, the _Aegis _was slowly maneuvering its way towards the Jedi Temple—intending to slam the final nail in the Republic's coffin by destroying its last bastion of resistance and its last symbol of survival. The ship was on autopilot, its target named and the flying being handled by computers as their struggle against the boarders was requiring the services of most of the Sith on board.

Valiens Nantaris watched the ship slowly tilt and churn towards them from inside the Temple. He had been part of the retreat inside, as the Sith had demolished the defensive perimeter that had been established around the Temple. He knew he would do no good meandering around the broken front, so he left to head up to the High Council room, hoping that he would find Ostyl or anyone who could offer some kind of authoritative control.

He was shocked to find, in the room, not only an authoritative figure, but also the beaten and withered Chancellor himself. In fact, there was a whole mob of refugees there—led by Allesandra Marlowe. The rest of them he did not know.

"Come for the high ground, lass?" he asked her grimly.

She nodded, but said nothing.

Nantaris strode past her and went towards the sweeping panoramic windows, gazing upon the battle. On all sides of the Temple the Sith were streaming towards it, a great horde of violent and sadistic beasts intent on nothing more than their destruction. The flames were out of control, he could see them as far as his sight would allow—which was not far due to their smoke. He could see, above the plumes of thick ash, the oncoming dreadnaught. It would be on them shortly, and then it would atomize them with that tremendous cannon.

He tapped his chin and then turned around, clasping his hands behind his back. He walked towards the front of the room, near the three small doors and the one giant one that led into the haven. There was a steady trickle of people seeking refuge in the very same place, and the Council room was becoming fuller by the minute. There was nothing he could do about it, though, so he allowed it to continue. His game was waiting.

* * *

"Is this it?" Caius asked.

"Yes—it should be near," answered the Prodigal Knight.

They had lost about six of the soldiers and the last two of the other Jedi, leaving them undermanned for this coming conflict. They only had about ten people in all. Ardashir likely would have an army with him.

They proceeded through a very large antechamber, looking around the room and inspecting every corner and even the ceiling for traps. There were none, and they were considerably surprised.

"The…bridge…is up ahead?" Bastila asked.

Revan nodded.

Something was amiss; it was too peaceful and too quiet for them to be in the right place. Ardashir had to have relocated somewhere else. And now they would have to spend the valuable time—time they did not have—to track him down.

Revan said nothing as the locksmith began to pry at the large double doors that led to what was, presumably, the bridge.

They waited in silence, the soldiers gripping their large weapons nervously.

The locksmith finished, and the doors casually slid open, revealing a massive bridge that extended horizontally for almost one hundred yards—or at least it felt that long. They were on the starboard side, and had to look far down the line to see the door that led out the port section. There was a huge, stretching viewport that extended almost the entire room, allowing them the sight of the Jedi Temple—the ship's next target.

On the walls were computers, but they were not being monitored. They simply hummed to themselves, wires sticking out and falling everywhere in a sort of unkempt fashion.

Revan let his eyes scan the room, but found nothing. He motioned for everyone to follow him as he made his way to the center of the room.

They strode behind him quietly, watching the scene outside the viewport. They all turned to face that direction while Revan thought of where the Sith Lord could possibly be. The haunting emptiness of the bridge was disconcerting, as it felt like no one was flying the monstrous ship. In truth, no one was, but the lack of presence disturbed him.

"All right," he began, "we have to turn back and—"

He turned around and there was the presence—masked by the Force but nonetheless there. And now it was too late.

"Look out!" he yelled.

The party wheeled around, but it was too late as a great black sword swept through the air and cleaved two of the Republic soldiers—including the hapless locksmith—in half. Ardashir glided out of some unseen corner of the room and stormed towards them. The sight of him was terrifying in and of itself. He was obscenely large, almost eight feet tall, it seemed, and covered from the toe up in complex, jutted battle armor. Jagged, violent points protruded from the mess of durasteel armor, threatening to impale them if they got too close. Almost his entire head, save for his discolored purple mouth was covered in a sturdy black helmet, two horns pointed out from the sides and curling upwards in an animalistic fashion. On his chest was some kind of gleaming red light—the sign of his fulfillment of Sith prophecy. It signaled his life force, and it was with this that he bound the _Aegis _to himself.

This was the Ardashir Revan remembered: twisted, violent, and surprising.

The Jedi took two steps backwards and the Republic soldiers opened fire on the Sith Lord. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off of him, bouncing off of his armor and spraying everywhere. One luckless man was hit with his own round, killing him.

Ardashir spun around, waving gigantic weapons, and impaling two soldiers in the process. He pointed at another one and the man lifted off of the ground and blasted through the air, hitting a second soldier.

Caius chanced an attack, but the Sith Lord effortlessly countered it and then flipped the Exile over. He would have been killed right then, but Revan intervened and forced Ardashir to block his attack and turn around. Caius rolled back to his feet and watched the Sith Lord separate the heads from the bodies of the last three soldiers. That left only him, Revan, and Bastila.

Ardashir turned around, swinging his sword around and then letting them fall to his side. He bellowed, "_Severus_."

* * *

"There's one up there," whispered Mira. They were in the engine room now, the majority of their team still intact. There was an intricate networking of staircases and catwalks that connected all the parts of the giant room together, and several Sith were patrolling above them. One of the Sith was almost on top of them, but he didn't see them from his perch.

Atton thought for a moment then said, "Bingo." He whipped out his blaster pistol and then fired three rounds into the Sith, killing it.

"_What'd you do that for?_" Mira shouted.

Atton shrugged, "I hate lightsabers. They have no range."

"_Now they all know we're here!"_

"You mean if they didn't already, they do now?"

She grumbled as several Sith leapt down from the metallic ramps and began firing at them. The Republic soldiers opened up and returned fire, killing many of the Sith. They stormed into the room, leaving the Jedi behind them. Mira shot Atton a furious look, to which he simply responded, "What?"

They were interrupted, however, by a jubilant HK: "Tally: One hundred and seventy-seven! Celebration: I have done it—I have broken my own record. I amaze even myself."

"Let's get those bombs ready," suggested Atton.

* * *

Carth had gotten word of what had happened. He was fretting tremendously, knowing that Dustil had been wounded and lost consciousness, but he had been told that the boy would live—at least, he would live as long as the battle lasted. Considering how the Sith were having their way with the Republic forces, none of them would have very long.

He ordered his men to keep a distance, not chancing a confrontation, as those never went well. He could only watch from afar as Coruscant was being torn apart.

* * *

Nantaris watched as more and more soldiers were coming up the council room. Even gunfire was growing louder—he could hear the sounds of combat down the hall. He continued to watch, and was surprised to see a very large wookiee coming up the stairs as well, his fur covered in blood and his paw on his side.

He looked at the tall creature with interest and then heard a shrill voice from behind yell, "Big Z! You're hurt!"

The little blue Twi'lek ran past him and towards the wookiee. She almost knocked him down and he groaned in pain, and then she began to tenderly work on his wounds. Nantaris took a step forward and tried to usher them out of the way. "Scoot back, lass," he suggested, "you don't want to be in front like this."

Mission obliged him and led the wounded wookiee away. Nantaris didn't know why he said that—it was not as if the back was safer than the front of the room. Maybe just a little bit. He decided to chalk it up to the fact that he had always liked blue Twi'leks.

The sounds of combat were coming closer. He still had to wait—but he knew it would not be for much longer.

* * *

The three Jedi formed a triangle around Ardashir, each equidistant to each other as they fought. They circled the giant Sith Lord, hoping to lure him into a foolish strike or a bad move, but he would not oblige. It seemed like he could predict their movements, as he was always able to counter what they did—even when it seemed like all logic dictated that he could not possible fend off three people at once, especially ones as strong in the Force as these.

Apparently Ardashir was Force sensitive. He was the only Sith they had come across that had been, aside from Cyaxares, and this probably explained his leadership role. He was truly the strongest and most powerful of all of them. It also explained his tremendous dueling ability. They could not subdue him; sometimes it even felt like he was on the offensive despite being outnumbered.

He fought with two swords, both of them much larger than even the longest longsword Caius had ever seen. They had to compensate by keeping their distance from him. Coupled with his longer arms, it was difficult to get close to the creature.

He bellowed terrible and frightening things while fighting, and none of them could understand the words. They may have just been noises—gibberish. Or he may have been addressing the Force. They did not know.

Sometimes he would invade their minds and speak to them—taunt them. The voice he would use to communicate was so deep and unnatural that it almost physically shook them when he spoke. His telepathic assaults were almost as damaging as his physical attacks.

"_Your precious Republic is broken_," he told them, "_torn asunder right in front of you. You had your chance and you did not take it. Your foolish hope in the light side is your undoing—you can see it gives you nothing_."

The battle continued as all three spun around him. Caius chanced a stab at his back, but the Sith spun around and almost took his hand off for his trouble. Revan took the opportunity to strike, but Ardashir ducked underneath it and then blocked Bastila's attack.

"_My empire and your country are not so different. Save for one thing_," he informed them in between hacking at them. "_Honesty—that is the fundamental difference. My Empire embraces it—thrives in it. Yours is backwards, decrepit, corrupt, and full of lies and malfeasance. How can you hope for moral rectitude to save you when you practice such two-faced debauchery? Your country is sick to the core_."

He forced Bastila back several feet, throwing wide violent attacks.

"_We enslave. We kill. We maim and destroy. But we embrace this. We live off of it. We feed off of it. We sustain our empire on this. You sustain your society on the same things, but then you would deny this of yourselves. Your slaving is widespread and undeniable. Your corruption reaches further than any can imagine. Your country is a great, neurotic disease—bloated and gasping for breath. Now an honest nation is ready to slit your throats._"

He ducked under her blow and then stood up and swung at her, but she hopped backwards far enough to avoid the attack.

"_The Republic is a morbid beast, begging for death. Why would you deny its urgent request?_"

The Sith then vaulted backwards, completely unexpectedly, and turned in the air, landing on his feet right in front of the retreated Exile.

Ardashir swung, but Caius blocked it. Another strike, and the Exile ducked underneath it. He took a step backwards, completely focused on Ardashir. So focused, in fact, that he did not anticipate the hit from behind. A large metal cabinet of some kind had been thrown through the air, called by the Force, and it hit Caius from behind and to his right. Its sharp corner had slammed into his side and broken at least one rib. He shuddered from the impact and fell to one knee, grasping his side. Another thing—a computer, maybe—flew through the air and hit him on the head sharply.

Ardashir, however, did not have time to continue with Caius as Revan and Bastila had jointly attacked him from behind. He turned and separated them, forcing his way in between them. Revan made a poor decision, and Ardashir whacked his lightsaber out of the way and firmly kicked the man in the stomach, sending him sprawling. In an instant, Ardashir called down a large metal beam from the ceiling and thrust it down on top of the Jedi, pinning him to the ground.

This left Bastila alone to fend for herself against the mighty Sith. He attacked her, but she parried the blows effectively. Her two blue blades countered his two black ones at every turn, and she twisted and spun around on her heels, walking backwards smoothly as they fought. She had a look of calm serenity and somehow resembled a dancer with the grace and fluidity of her attacks, parries, and counterattacks.

Caius would have appreciated the spectacle were he not bleeding from his ears and his head. He felt the back of his scalp and then looked to see his hand covered in red. He was dizzy, and struggled to get up, but could not.

Revan tried to use every iota of his strength to push the beam off of himself, but it was taking a long time—it was very heavy. He even was using the Force to move it, but he was in such an awkward position calling on it was difficult. This left Bastila alone far longer than she should have been—but in spite of this she continued her dance.

Until she missed a step.

Ardashir swept his swords upwards and he impacted both of her lightsabers at once, sending them up above the Jedi's head. He forced them up higher, crossing both of them with one sword. With the other, he struck downwards towards her exposed upper body.

* * *

The Sith were at the door of the High Council Room. They swarmed up the steps and began firing inside. The few Republic soldiers present returned a pitiful volley, but the Sith were encroaching rapidly.

Nantaris glanced around at all the beleaguered and defeated faces. None of them had any hope. They had been pushed as far as they could go. This was it. This was their last stand.

He walked closer to the open door, the main entrance. He activated his yellow lightsaber and twirled it around, letting it fall to his right side. The Sith continued advancing and he turned around to see that he was by himself in standing near the cusp of the new battle line.

He regarded them all solemnly. "This temple will not fall," he said, "while I yet live."

He shifted back around to face the oncoming horde. He threw caution to the wind and leaped off of the top of the steps and down into the mangled mass of Sith marauders. He swept through three of them at once, slicing them in half. He swung quickly and precisely, forming a circle of falling bodies around himself. The Sith began to try to circle around him, but they were stopped by the attacking refugees that Nantaris had left behind. Zaalbar jumped into the fray with two vibroswords, and several Republic soldiers joined him in their last stand.

"It's been a pleasure," said Nantaris in between slaying a Sith, "to have served with you lads."

Their enemies then completed the circle around them.

* * *

Bastila gasped quietly as Ardashir drove the sword through her chest.

"_You are truly lucky,_" he said, "_At least you can die knowing the truth. Few have such a blessing._"

She lost all use of her arms and they fell to her side, her weapons dropping from her hands. Ardashir twisted the blade in further, eliciting a pained yelp.

"_Bastila!_" Revan screamed. He almost bent the beam into a right angle as he forced it off of himself. He rushed from the ground and had his lightsaber ready in an instant—charging wildly towards the Sith Lord. His nostrils were flared and his face was redder than a Sith's lightsaber, the veins protruding violently out of his neck.

Ardashir did not even have time to pull the sword out of Bastila's chest as Revan attacked. He simply turned around and left it in her.

As the two fought viciously, Bastila just stood there. The sword had gone all the way through, finding a perfect balancing point and just hanging there. She did not fall to her knees or even move. She just held there and looked down at her chest, not believing that she had been just been impaled in such a manner.

"_Such a display_," said Ardashir, "_now I see the vaunted strategist in his true form. Did you really think you were ever in control? Did you really believe that you ever truly commanded your destiny? Did you sincerely think that you fooled me? I profess disappointment—you were so easy to manipulate. And now I have repaid you for your insolence—by killing your whore in front of you_."

Revan was out of control. His attacks were ill-conceived and driven by emotion. Ardashir did not have to try hard to counter them. The Prodigal Knight lunged spastically, but Ardashir sidestepped it and then rewarded Revan by slicing off his left hand.

Revan winced in pain and accidentally dropped his lightsaber. Ardashir knocked him to the ground and forced him into a bind. The Sith Lord then placed his foot on his neck, intending to crush the life out of him.

"_And now the Republic will cease drawing breath as you do—dying…dying with its 'savior'."_

Caius was slowly coming to. He staggered to one knee and tried, through blurry vision, to find his lightsaber. He let his fingers drag across the ground until he finally felt it. He gripped it weakly and then struggled to stand up. As he blinked into focus, he finally realized what he was seeing. Bastila had now fallen to her knees, and Ardashir's sword was still imbedded in her. Her hands were on the ground at her sides, palms upwards, and she was looking down and choking every time she tried to breathe.

He saw Revan pinned to the ground, only a stump remaining where had once had a hand.

Caius shook himself out of his stupor. He looked at Bastila again, thought, _No…she's…_

Suddenly the words exploded out of his mouth. "_NO!_" he shouted with tremendous volume. He then lurched through the air, his lightsaber over his head, across the room towards the Sith Lord.

Ardashir was taken aback by the surprise and barely managed to turn around in time to greet the Exile. He struggled to block Caius's violent strike and just avoided being slit in half vertically. However, from below, Revan used the opportunity to summon his lightsaber back to his good hand. He rolled to one side and then swept his green beam upwards.

From the front, Caius saw the green light slide across the back of Ardashir's head. There was a strange cauterized explosion as Revan had sliced through the back of the Sith Lord's neck. Pieces of charred metal and blackened bits of flesh sprayed out from the wound. The Sith Lord roared in pain and Caius used the opportunity to plant his lightsaber in the creature's chest. He drove it deep into the glowing red beacon, pushing his weapon in as far it would go. He brought himself right against the Sith's body, his face to Ardashir's face. The Sith Lord wheezed and then screamed a violent screeching roar that almost deafened the Exile.

Even as Ardashir howled in wretched agony he invaded their minds. "_What we have begun…cannot…be undone—you are too late…_"

Caius responded by pulling out his weapon and slinging it around horizontally. The screaming stopped and Ardashir's body went limp and crashed to the ground, his head rolling off of his shoulders.

"Go to hell," Caius muttered at the corpse.

He instantly turned around, groaning in pain from his ribs and head, to find Revan was gone. He was already at Bastila's side. Caius tried to run. He, thinking surprisingly quickly, grabbed his comm link and contacted Atton. He said simply, "Ardashir's dead." He shut it off before Atton could respond.

He hurried over to Bastila's side and knelt to the ground. Revan had already tried to lay her out, but the sword was in the way. She seemed to be going into delirium, and was not entirely aware of what they were saying.

"Pull the sword out," said Revan.

"What?" Caius asked, "that could just make it worse!"

Revan sighed, said, "It can't get worse. She's…not going to live…"

Caius was stunned by the words. Surely…surely Bastila would not die. Not like this. Not now.

"Pull it out!" Revan admonished him. He wanted her to retain some dignity.

Caius grabbed the hilt and steeled his nerves. He tried to slide the weapon out of her as gently as possible, but it did not work. She cried and grimaced in pain, but he got it out. He threw it aside and then she just whimpered.

Revan grunted as his own missing hand pained him, but he was too concerned with Bastila. He put his remaining hand on her bloodied robes and Caius saw him start to cry. Revan—the legendary soldier and missing savior of the universe—was reduced to weeping without shame in front of him. Caius's eyes watered up too and he joined him.

The Exile said, "We have to get her out of here…"

"Didn't you hear me?" Revan cried, choking down an emotional sob, "she isn't going to make it. This wound is fatal."

"We still…have to…"

"Go," Revan said sternly. "Go now—you don't have much time. Leave us here."

"What abou—"

"I am not leaving her," said the Prodigal Knight, "not again."

Caius hesitated, "I…I…"

"Run!" commanded Revan, "I'll not hold it against you."

The Exile then said in between heaving attempts to draw breath, "I…Good…bye, Revan…"

Revan nodded to him sadly.

Caius took a few steps backwards, unwilling to turn away. "Goodbye Bastila…" he whispered quietly. He lingered for another second, looking over his wounded friend with tremendous grief, before his wits came to him. The ship would explode soon. He turned around and began to run. He ran faster than he ever had in his life. The tears began to stream down his face as he did so—a terrible combination of grief, terror, and exhaustion. Guilt welled up in him—he felt he was abandoning his friend. He wanted to just lie down and die right then. But he couldn't. Something within him told him to keep going. To keep running. That there was still hope. He wept as he ran, wept as he had lost one of his closest friends.

* * *

Though it pained him, Revan did his best to caress Bastila in their final moments. It was difficult with his missing hand, but that pain was nowhere near his most trying at the moment. He wiped the blood away from her mouth and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She was coughing and trying to say something. He just tried to console her, said gently, "Shhh, it's okay Bastila. I'm here."

She just looked at him wearily. It was hard to tell if she was conscious, or if she was just drifting into the next world.

"I promised," he whispered, "that I would never leave you. And I won't. I never will."

She coughed again, but she proved that she was aware of his words. "…never," she croaked.

"Never," he answered.

Her mind was fading, but right then, as her life was leaving her, she had a revelation. She saw only his eyes as he held her there, the very same eyes as before. Finally she saw that, deep within him, the man she had loved was still there. He had always been there. He would always be there. The same kindness and devotion that she remembered had been rekindled. Never to go out.

"I love you," he said, leaning towards her and kissing her on the forehead. He put his hand on her cheek, "but you know this."

She nodded—just once, and very labouredly. She reached out through their bond—through the little connection that had still remained despite years of being apart. She whispered to him through it, with the last of her strength, _I love you, too. I always have…_

He was now complete. There was nothing he had ever wanted to hear more than those words. And now she had told him. She finally told him.

Her breathing was growing more irregular, and he cautioned her, pleading, "Be still."

He managed, despite his injury, to scoop her off of the ground. Gently, he held the young woman in his arms and stood up. He turned towards the massive viewport. It was morning now, and through the smoke he could see that the Jedi Temple was still hanging in front of them, awaiting its sentencing. But now there would be none.

"See?" he whispered to her, "it's still standing…we did it."

The ship then shuddered terribly. The bombs were beginning to detonate, throwing the ship into violent seizures with each explosion.

* * *

Caius ran quickly, backtracking all of his steps towards the _Ebon Hawk_. He reached the hanger with no time to spare, wreckage coming down all around him. Atton, Mira, HK, and Elliott were already there—as well as a few soldiers. They said nothing, just ushered him quickly inside the ship and then lifted off of the ground. Fires roared through the hanger as they escaped.

* * *

Revan turned around again, his back now against the viewport. He had nothing to do now but wait. Bastila's light was fading; he could feel it. He looked down admiringly at her. She truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He just watched her—wishing that things could have been different. Wishing that so much had not happened. He wished to undo so many different things. But wishing would do nothing. There was only the situation they were given.

In front of him, the heat was getting stronger. He felt it pulsating through the ship as it drew nearer. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. The ceiling began to come down, falling all around them, everything crashing to the ground.

In an instant, the fires exploded through the open doors. The orange flames spewed through the bridge and Revan greeted them with Bastila in his arms. The fires consumed them. They died in each other's arms—just as he had always known they would.

And they were one with the Force.

Together.

* * *

The _Aegis_, still controlled by computers, was attempting to unleash its primary weapon. The magnificent white light shot out of its bow once again, bathing the Jedi Temple in its lethal net.

Nantaris ran his blade through a Sith and looked up, only to be blinded by its majesty. Everything stopped. The Sith ceased attacking and the Republic soldiers ceased defending. They all stood up and watched the beam as it dripped over the Temple and flowed inside, drenching all of them in its light. Zaalbar held still, Mission next to him. Allie lowered her blaster and watched. T3's mechanical innards started malfunctioning. The lonesome and forlorn Chancellor watched with sadness as he anticipated the end of the Republic right then.

As they watched, the light then faded—granting them their last seconds of life. Soon it would explode outward and destroy them.

But then suddenly they saw the flames.

From within the _Aegis_, fires began to erupt. Flames blasted out the sides of the hull, shattering through the viewport in front of the ship. Fire coughed out of the vent and the white light never reappeared. Explosions rattled the hull and the ship was eaten from the inside out by the fires. It snapped in half mid-way through and began disintegrating right in front of them. It began to lurch and fall towards the surface.

The Republic defenders let out a victorious cheer, their roars deafening everyone inside the temple. The Sith, conversely, went into mass panic. Ardashir was dead. Their dreadnaught had been destroyed. Their force field was broken. They turned and began to run.

Despite the chaotic retreat, Nantaris ordered his followers to pursue them. The Grandmaster cut the legs off of a Sith running past them and then stabbed it in the back.

"Chase them! Don't let them regroup!" he ordered.

* * *

In the skies above, Carth witnessed the whole thing. The _Reckoner _had sailed closer to the surface amidst the duel aboard the _Aegis_, and he could clearly see the destruction of the Sith ship. He could not, however, have anticipated its consequences.

Almost immediately after the dreadnaught went down, Carth saw a smaller Sith destroyer—caught in crossfire—go up in flames. It had not been hit very hard, but it went down. To his left, he saw a Sith cruiser light up.

"Captain," began Carth, "what is happening?"

"I don't know, sir," answered the man, "but they're going down."

"Quick!" ordered Onasi, "move into sector twelve. Engage any Sith in the way. We need to meet up with that CSG and try to coordinate a counterattack."

"Right away, sir," complied a lieutenant.

They began to move into the fray. He could see that, though the tide was not turning, the Republic navy was now actually doing damage. Subconsciously, however, he knew that there were still too many Sith. What ever had happened, it had not happened soon enough. They had been dealt too much damage.

"Sir!" shouted the navigator, "hundreds of unidentified spacecraft exiting hyperspace to our rear!"

"Damn it all," said Carth, "take evasive action, see if we can't get to the rest of our fleet before they do."

A lieutenant then stated with confusion, "Uh…it appears we're receiving a transmission."

A static hologram showed up on the pedestal before Carth. It was static and hard to determine, but it had a familiarly gruff voice. "Shove that evasive action, flyboy," it said, "we're on your side."

Carth stuttered and said, "It's…"

"Yes," answered the voice. "It is I—Canderous Ordo. Mandalore; soldier extraordinaire; and savior of your sorry asses. Now, kindly move out of the way."

* * *

The entire Mandalorian fleet had dropped out of hyperspace with the intent to wage war.

The fleet roared into action. They descended upon the scrambling Sith fleet like vultures, their huge turbolasers tearing into them. The Mandalorians drove them apart, isolating the ships, and then picking them off one by one.

As they drew lower into the atmosphere, thousands of Basilisk War Droids fell out of their open bomb bay hatches, screaming through the air in a bizarre recreation of the scene from the night before when the Sith landed on Coruscant. They streaked through the air and began blasting the Sith to pieces.

Canderous Ordro stood on the deck of his capital ship—the _Dauntless_—and relished the display. He was clad head to toe in gray armor, the helmet of Mandalore upon his head. He soaked in the whole scene. Before him, a burning Coruscant was being liberated—liberated by him. The enemy would be annihilated. This was what he had promised when he had told Revan that he was his man until the end.

* * *

The _Ebon Hawk_ made it through the treacherous atmosphere and landed in the Jedi Temple. A morose quiet had fallen over them. None of them spoke as they disembarked. Atton, Mira, and Elliott stalked out of the ship quietly—trying to come to grips with the amount of death they had witnessed. Although they had all expected heavy losses, none of them anticipated losing Bastila and Revan. Revan, an enigma to them, was like some kind of foreign phantom. His death seemed fitting, as he had been fated to go out with a bang.

But Bastila…they had all known her. She had been with them through thick and thin and now she was gone. Despite the different feelings they had for her, the stinging sadness of her death jarred them so severely that they could not function.

Caius least of all. He had known her since they were young. Even though he never felt any sort of romantic connection to her, he knew that he loved her as a friend. And now he was completely broken down. He wallowed in the sticky, gloomy substance of depression. Not even cognizant of the battle raging around them.

The two soldiers that had survived exited the _Hawk _after him. Through their personal communicators, they learned what had happened. One of them stopped in front of Caius, who had simply sat down on the ground and stared at his feet.

"Master Jedi," he began, his voice muffled by his helmet, "the Sith have been forced into chaos. The Mandalorians are here. Mandalore himself has joined the battle."

"…thank you," Caius said without looking at him.

The two soldiers then hurriedly left. HK went with them as they were headed off to join the battle.

Caius just waited there until Atton came up to him. Mira was standing behind him, but too far away for him to see her as he continued to look at the ground.

Atton reached down and offered him his hand. He said, "Come on, Caius. We have to keep going."

"I can't believe…" he muttered, "they're gone. She's gone."

Atton didn't say anything. Neither did Mira. Caius looked up to see them. Grief was evident on both of their faces, and they did not even know her that well. Caius took Atton's hand and he was lifted off of the ground.

About twenty yards off, Caius saw Elliott standing by himself. The pilot was facing the other way, but he chanced an askance look in Caius's direction as the Exile was helped to his feet. Caius saw his eyes, reddened with tears. Quickly the man turned away, not wanting anyone to see him that way. He didn't want to let his guard down—not while anyone saw him.

"Come on, Caius," urged Atton as gently as he could through labored breaths, "let's go. Let's go find Nantaris."

Caius nodded drearily and the three Jedi began to leave. Elliott stayed behind, making sure to hide his face from them as they left. When they were gone he just turned and looked out the back of the hanger. He looked past the _Ebon Hawk_, the noble steed that had done so much for them.

Behind her, the battle continued to rage. The Mandalorians were quickly gaining the upper hand, however, and the Sith were being systematically annihilated.

But Elliott didn't care. He just stood there and watched, soaking in the complete silence, shakily smoking a cigarette.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Okay, I can see the pitchforks, torches, and rope in the distance. Before I am lynched for what happened in this chapter, please wait! There is one more! After the last part is posted…then feel free to admonish (hang) me for what I did here._

_Just know that I didn't take that scene with Bastila and Revan lightly...but it was a decision I made long ago._

_Anyway, thank you so much for reading. All of you, I really appreciate it._


	27. Epilogue

_Author's Notes: Okay, here it is! The epilogue and final segment of the story. It's real short, so I figured there wasn't much point in waiting. Also __**warning: **__it's a bit cheesy, but I wanted to do that because the previous three chapters were so depressing._

_Anyway, thank you so much, all of you, for reading and reviewing this giant beast. I couldn't have done it without you. It's been fun, and I hope you enjoy the end now as much as I did writing it. I'll be sure and post a longer "thank you" in an addendum later on. But for now…enjoy!_

**Epilogue**

Three weeks passed since Mandalore and his armada rescued the Republic from the brink of destruction. The Sith fleet had stood no chance. The destruction of the _Aegis_, coupled with the surprise attack of the Mandalorians, resulted in their utter annihilation. Their ships, without the magic of the Dark Side shielding them, were surprisingly easy to destroy. On the ground, the Mandalorian Basilisks had unleashed hell upon the confused and panicked Sith land forces, and they routed them quite spectacularly.

As the Sith had fled and ran every direction, many went into hiding. Mandalore organized a massive scouring of the planet's surface—with teams of his soldiers combing through the wreckage to find and eliminate the pockets of Sith that had survived the battle.

The scene was an unprecedented one, as just ten years prior the Mandalorians had been the most feared enemies of the Republic. Now they were the very epitome of safety. Citizens, still rattled and scared from the chaotic battle, felt safer when the Mandalorians were around. They symbolized the strength required to go on and keep fighting. To stand up and rebuild.

HK allied himself with Mandalore—who, the droid had confessed, had always been his favorite of the meatbags he had traveled with. The two of them led the scourging effort.

Although the battle had ended, the wounds were still raw—fresh. Millions had perished in the siege. Thousands upon thousands of square miles of damage had been done to the surface of Coruscant. Entire districts had been leveled. The Senate had been shredded, though most of it still remained. The Jedi Temple itself was barely standing, as the foundation had been ripped out when the Sith tunneled underneath it. Though the physical damage was staggering, the loss of life was the most devastating. No one went untouched. Everyone knew someone who had perished.

Caius and the Jedi were not alone in their grief for the dead.

Grandmaster Valiens Nantaris stood on top of the mangled heap of wreckage that was once the main staircase that had led to the entrance of the Jedi Temple. The streets in front of him, where the bulk of the carnage had taken place during the siege of the Temple, had been cleared away by droids and all kinds of machinery. The ongoing healing process had been stalled for this day.

In front of him was a massive caravan of people. Humans and aliens, men and women, friends and foes, senators and peasants, soldiers and citizens, all crowded the street as they embarked on the most spectacular funeral procession anyone had ever seen. They stretched on by the thousands, filling up the street further than Nantaris could see. He did not join them as they passed by the Temple, only watched from his perch. His place was the Temple. It was a part of him, and he determined to represent it to those who walked by.

Most of the people in the march carried a small banner with them—the Republic standard. The symbol flapped on a red flag in the wind, tied to the little poles carried by the throngs. The banners represented the men and women lost in the battle. The causalities were too astronomical to calculate, so almost everyone held one. It was a final gesture, the least they could do.

Admiral Carth Onasi was standing a few feet in front of the Grandmaster, off by himself. He had been quiet since the battle ended. He had not spoken to anyone. The news of Bastila and Revan's deaths hit him especially hard. When Nantaris had to tell him, the man responded with a stare—but the Jedi could see the terrible pain in him. His eyes looked to water, but he did not cry. Carth Onasi never cried. He had not shed a tear for anyone since his wife died. But never had he come so close as then. He had not spoken a word to anyone save for Dustil since.

Dustil himself had survived the battle, and he received a medal for his wound. It had not been the most terrible of injuries, and by the time the procession began, he could walk again. He insisted on joining the parade, and he carried a special banner with him. The standard bore the Jedi insignia. He colored it green and said that he wanted to carry it for Xristos. Carth had no objections.

Special banners floated past them for the leaders. Two were for Dodonna and Ostyl—both of them having been slain in the apocalypse.

Mandalore was a few feet in front of Nantaris. The gruff and hardened man had wanted to watch the procession—he had wanted to pay his respects to Revan, whom he considered the greatest man he'd ever known. He watched the parade in stoic silence. He gripped his helmet underneath his arm silently, allowing the sunlight to touch his bearded face for the first time in ages, and held the pose throughout the duration of the parade.

Caius strode up next to Nantaris and stopped to his left, keeping quiet. Atton and Mira were there too, a little farther off to the left. These four—along with Dustil—were the only Jedi that remained. In the entire galaxy—this was it. They would have to rebuild from five people. It was a monumental restoration project, but that was far from their minds at the time.

Allie stayed away from the procession. She wanted to go, but she had said that it was just too sad. She didn't want to cry in public. She stayed out sight. Caius did not know where she was at the time—probably with T3 as the two of them had signed up to help repair anything that needed to be repaired.

They all watched as Mission and Zaalbar passed in front of them—the huge wookiee impossible to miss in a crowd. His tribe had suffered terribly in the battle, almost all of them getting killed. But they went to their deaths willingly, knowing that they were dying for Revan—the man who had saved them from slavery on their home planet.

The procession continued for a long time. They all watched in silence. Eventually, an ornamented section came towards them. The crowd—decorated soldiers from the battle and wars past moving in a circle around the main spectacle—suspended two large rectangular boxes off of the ground. They were coffins.

They were for Revan and Bastila—the man and woman who had killed Ardashir and saved the Republic.

The honor of victory belonged to them, and everyone knew it. Their sacrifice was the only thing that had kept the nation alive. Caius had refused to take any credit. He stubbornly insisted that he did not do anything of merit. The honor belonged to them and them alone.

The crowd was quiet as the coffins proceeded past them. Six soldiers carried Revan's coffin, three on each side. Bastila's was carried by five soldiers and the stoic figure of Elliott Gallenti. He supported one of the corners on the back. He had insisted that he be a part. He said he wanted to show his respect for her.

As the march continued, onlookers tossed small colored papers and flowers down onto the procession.

Nantaris soaked in the scene. His grief was tremendous, he felt so helpless—he wished that he could have done something—anything—to prevent this. But he knew that it was a foolish hope.

He looked to Caius as the coffins marched past and broke the silence. "The Republic will forever be indebted to them for what they did."

Caius just nodded.

Nantaris looked back towards the crowd, but then asked hesitantly, "Were they…lovers?"

"Huh?" Caius grunted, shaking out of his melancholy stupor.

Nantaris glanced towards him, but did not restate the question.

Caius looked away and thought about the consequences of the truth. He then answered quietly, "Yes. They were."

Nantaris closed his green eyes and looked back away. He said, "I could see it in them. They struggled so mightily…" a pause, "So—it was love?"

Caius just whispered so no one else would hear, even though the two men were standing side-by-side. "But that they never got to be together…it is so…sad."

Nantaris mused to himself. He said quietly, "Fate may have conspired to keep them apart in life. But history will forever treat them as a couple. Tales will be told, millennia from now, about Bastila and Revan. The two Jedi who saved the galaxy. They will be inseparable."

"I think," said Caius, "they would have traded it for anonymous happiness."

"You are right, lad," replied Nantaris, "but that is the price we pay." He gestured towards the continuing procession. "We have to be willing to do whatever is necessary. Whatever the cost—we have to meet it, match it, surpass it. We have to be dedicated to our art without reservation."

Caius watched as the two coffins began to move away, no longer in front of them.

"The only thing, I believe," continued the Grandmaster, "in this universe that is comparable to our dedication…is that of a child. A child trying to please his father. A little boy will do anything to know that his father is pleased with him—he'll do whatever it takes. That is out lot. That is the weight of glory."

He took a deep breath as the solemn spectacle passed out of sight, hidden by the crowd. "And Bastila and Revan shouldered it for us."

* * *

Another couple of weeks flittered by after the dramatic parade. The Jedi had moved back into the Temple—fractured though it was—and began the recuperation process.

Caius was preparing his belongings, but he stopped for a moment to look out the window. He saw the sun setting, casting a brilliant orange glow from the horizon. The fires had finally ceased and he could see the sky clearly. The roads were cleaner, and the buildings were being spruced up nicely.

_We'll make it all right_, he thought to himself.

He turned around and saw that Atton was standing in his open doorway. He knocked on the door somewhat respectfully and then came in.

"So," he began, "you're going with Carth on this wild goose chase?"

"It's not a goose chase—we're going back into the Unknown Regions to purge the Sith. Their fleet is gone, but they still hold most of the planets out there. We're going in to clean it up."

Atton nodded, said, "Yeah, yeah—I know. HK's practically blown a circuit he's so excited. Still, all those Mandalorians give me the willies."

Caius shrugged, said, "Yeah—well, it's Mandalore's mission. He wants to go on the offensive. I don't think it'll be much of an offensive, but he won't listen."

There was a brief pause. Caius then suggested, "Why don't you come with us?"

Atton shook his head, "Hell no—I told you once, I told you a thousand times—I'm not going into the Unknown Regions." He grimaced even saying the words. "Besides," he continued, "we can't leave Nantaris here by himself."

Caius agreed, then said, "It'll be different out there without the _Hawk_."

"What are you going to do with her?" asked Atton.

"I tried to give her to Elliott—but he wouldn't take her."

Under any other circumstances, this would have been insane. The _Hawk _was one of the best ships in the Republic. But none of the crew wanted to go near her—despite all she had gotten them through. It was too emotionally involving. Whenever Caius even thought about the _Hawk_, all the images flooded back to him. He saw Xristos standing there smiling and calmly explaining some theoretical idea to him. He saw Bastila meditating. He heard the sound of her irritated voice whenever Elliott teased her. He missed them so terribly—and he did not think he could even look at the _Hawk _again without breaking down. So he decided it would be best to move on.

"She's the best ship I've ever flown—I'm sure someone will want her."

Caius nodded. Seconds later, Mira strode through the door and greeted them.

"Caius," she said angrily, "I have no idea in hell where you are for months, then you come back in time for that horrible battle, and now you're leaving again." She frowned somewhat disingenuously and said, "You just don't hold still, do you?"

She then let her hands slide off of her hips and she held them outwards. He thought she wanted to hug him, and so hesitantly moved forward before she slapped him on the top of the head. "No hugs," she said accusingly, "you girl."

"Sorry, sir," Caius responded.

"Well," began Atton, "we'll let you go. You must have to get going. Dustil was here a few minutes ago and he said Carth was getting impatient."

"Yeah," said Caius, "I just got to do one thing."

Atton held out his hand for Caius to shake. He said, "Take care, buddy."

"You don't have to worry now. Nothing's gonna happen out there. The bad part's over."

Atton nodded and turned to leave. Mira waved at him playfully and then followed out the other Jedi. Caius smirked to himself and then turned around. For a second he thought about finishing packing, but then decided to go check on Allie. She had come up into the Temple the day before to repair something and stayed in an adjacent room as she was heading out on their excursion back into the Unknown Regions with them that day.

Caius exited his room and turned the nearby corner to find her room. The door was open so he walked in without knocking. Allie was standing on the floor, bent over her bed and folding some things. Her suitcase was open.

The Exile strode closer and then she jumped upwards, said, "Hi, Caius. I didn't hear you."

"You all ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said happily, "almost." She moved over to put something into the suitcase. As she leaned over it, Caius saw a familiar red floral design inside—folded neatly and sitting on top. He suddenly remembered that picture from Scythia.

"The dress," he said longingly, "you kept it."

She closed the suitcase and looked at him with a smile, said, "Well—you know. I figured I'd keep it since we're going back there and all…and everyone liked it so much."

_Yeah, I like it_, he thought to himself. "I hope they'll be glad to see us," responded Caius. "I had to raise hell to convince Mandalore not to bomb the planet. They'll stay away from them. We can just go in with a few people and clear out the Sith and free them."

Allie seemed excited, said, "I can't wait to see that place again."

"Me too."

"Well," said the mechanic, "are you ready then? We should go."

"Hold on," he answered, "let me get my stuff."

"Okay."

The Exile turned and left the room, scurrying back to his own. He hurried over to his bag and stuffed the last of his things in it, not bothering to fold them. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder, but when he turned around he experienced a strange sensation.

There was a presence in the room. More than one. He could feel them. It was familiar, but faint—like something on the threshold of hearing.

He did not hear anything, but internally a voice suddenly danced through his head. It was an old man's voice, deep like the earth and affectionate like a grandfather. It was intimately familiar to him. "_You did it_," it said, "_we're all proud_."

Caius spun around, trying to discern where the noise was coming from. As he turned, he saw something. It was on his peripheral, but he knew what it was. He tried to face it, but it turned and distorted in front of him. It was immaterial. It was not there. But then…it was there.

The Exile then had an epiphany. He reached out through the Force to see what it was. He was cast into the strangely foggy and mysterious world of the void. In front of him, though, were the two of them.

He had his right arm around her shoulder, and her hand was on his right side. They didn't make any noise, but they appeared to be laughing together. The man was smiling through his amusement. The woman's braided brown hair and funny little pigtails behind her ears bounced as she laughed, unable to keep her head still as she reveled in their glee. They were enjoying themselves. Pure joy was radiating through them—a kind of ecstatic rapture that Caius had never seen. They looked at him happily, as though they wanted to tell him something. But he knew there was nothing to say. They had already said it. They had peace. And it gave him peace.

Right then he knew what he was seeing. He had been blessed beyond the scope of any man in history. He saw something that few if any would ever see. He saw something that most did not believe even existed or would ever exist. He saw true happiness. Pure, joyful happiness.

"Are you ready?" asked a sweet, but very physical voice from behind him.

As soon as it had appeared, the spectral vision vanished—shattered by the woman behind him. Caius turned around to see Allie standing there.

He had a smile on his face now, too. He said, "I am." He steadied his bag and then walked towards the door.

Allie stepped out before him and turned to wait. He exited the door and turned around, allowing one final glance around the room. He soaked it all in. He looked at every nook and every cranny in an instant—trying to get another glimpse at the heaven he had witnessed.

But it was gone.

He turned back to face Allie. In light of what he had just seen, he felt like he had gained a new perspective. On what, he was unsure. But inwardly—he felt more wholesome and complete. He let his eyes linger on her. _She __**is**__ so beautiful_, he thought to himself. He found it hard to believe they had come all this way, and she had been there the whole time. She was the same person she had been when she joined them, but she did not seem it. She had changed right in front of him. She somehow had morphed into beauty and had borne witness to it. She noticed him staring and raised her left eyebrow, her light brown eyes seemingly giggling at him.

He put his hand on her shoulder and said, "We'll have to take a rain check on that dinner. Unless…of course, you like the Hasan cuisine."

She thought for a second and then nodded her head ever so slightly, said, "I think I'd like that."

He turned and began to shut the door. Just through the crack he caught a glimpse of the outside. He beheld Coruscant again as it was rebuilding.

In this moment, everything was okay. Everything was good.

"Let's go, Allie," he said.

He then shut the door.

**The End**


	28. End Notes

**End Notes.**

I don't know what came over me, but I totally forgot to do this. Only in a recent conversation with Gipper 40 did I realize that I had promised to put an addendum on this story and address all of you. I decided that I should rectify this error, however late it was. I hope that I have not breached some kind of FFnet etiquette by updating this story such a long time after it was finished, but I felt it was necessary. In order to assuage my guilt I am also updating my new story at the same time. Maybe that'll make me look like less of an ass. :p

Anyway, it's been months since I finished this story and, ironically, almost exactly one year since I began it. I think that this time off, actually, has given me a better perspective on the whole thing. But the main reason I'm writing this now is for this:

I never properly thanked all of you who read this massive story. You all were fantastic, and you deserve my mention here. I owe tremendous debts to those reviewers who stuck with this monstrosity, gave their opinions, and helped me out. **Gipper 40 **and the **Outlander **always provided the densest and most insightful (and longest!) comments, and for that I am in your debt. I always looked forward to your reviews and comments. I have to thank **Lord Europe **for reading through that whole thing, even though he really didn't seem to like what direction I took Revan. :p

I am especially in debt to that certain trio of reviewers who kept up with my story and reviewed it during the doldrums when no one else was. **Captin Azza **and **TEN10X **are two**, **andyou both deserve my extreme gratitude for that. And lastly, **Jen DeClan**, who I'm certain reviewed this story more than any other person. I am tremendously thankful for all your thoughts and opinions and comments. It was a great relief to know that, even when it seemed like no one was reading this story at all, that at least _one _person out there was. And that made a huge difference. So I _really _thank you.

There are too many of you to name, but I am deeply grateful to all of you—**Denizen47**, **runwild2012**, **havoc-legionnaire**, everyone. I know I'm probably forgetting some of you and I hope you'll forgive me.

And, of course, I have to thank **Lord Valentai**, who beta'd this monster. Without him, this story quite simply wouldn't have existed. So hats off!

All right, that's enough of that, and I don't want this to sound like a yearbook entry. While this was the whole purpose of this update, but I figured maybe some of you'd like to hear a little about the background of the story, just for kicks. I hope you'll indulge my vanity, and if you don't want to, please hit me with a shovel (I'm sure I deserve it)!

I began this thing with the intent of wrapping up a story that I feel has been unfairly neglected (and now whored out by Bioware) and wanted to do it in a meaningful, character-focused way. Maybe it worked, maybe it was too dark for it's own good at parts, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. For me, the characters became the driving force for the story, and it was them that helped me keep writing it.

Caius Lucullus was the name of the character that I played in the game, so I thought it was perfect just to port him over and make him the central character. I tried to make him as neutral as possible, like I felt the Exile in the game was, and essentially let him act as the straight man for all the eccentricities of the other characters. I based his personality, somewhat muddle-headed inability to recognize the best course of action in chaotic situations, and dry, sarcastic humor mostly off of myself, figuring that I'd probably act like that too. Maybe. :p But in spite of all the interesting eccentricities of the characters, Caius is the one I identify with the most, and he remains a very special character for me because of that.

Bastila was also intended to be in the story from the get go, and they were the only two characters who I had planned on having from beginning to end. She was the hardest to write because she's the only canon character that I took on the voyage into the unknown worlds. But she's integral to the story, and I really enjoyed her in the game and in this story. It was really difficult to write her death at the end, but I felt that that was the best course of action. Revan, I believed, needed to go out at the end. Lord Valenai and I both thought that he, as a character, would have run his course. The chaos of that era would end with him, so he needed to go. I had originally thought that he'd die and leave Bastila behind, and while that might have worked, it would leave their romance unfinished, and I didn't want to do that. So I decided to send them out together. It was a very risky decision, and I hope that you all thought it was the right one. But that was still the hardest thing I ever wrote in my (incredibly brief) writing "career."

Atton and Elliott are both very similar characters. The reason I decided not to have Atton go with them was because, from a male!Exile perspective, his character arc was finished. The Exile trains him as a Jedi and finds out about his past, and that is it. There is no "romance" there, like for the Fem!Exile that would sustain his plot. So I decided to replace him with a new, even more irritating and obnoxious character. Most of you, I get the feeling, didn't like him, but he was really fun to write. :p I named him after Elliott Smith, as I was listening to his music a lot at the time, so that's why he has a very "earthy" name.

I feel guilty about Dustil. I brought him along as a stand-in for Carth, but he never really got his moment like the other characters did, I think. He sort of fell into the background. I regret that, but I just wasn't sure what to do with him after a while. I tried to give him some moments, so hopefully he was more than a "wall" character. :/

Nantaris, actually, is not my character at all! He's Lord Valentai's, but I thought it would make the story more interesting for my beta if his favorite drunken Scotsman was involved. I hope it did! He was also very fun to write.

Xristos is my own OC, and I really liked him. It was hard to write him out, too, but I knew that he would fit into the whole "mentor" role that most SW movies have, who usually die early on. His philosophical musings were tremendously fun to write. Essentially, if CS Lewis were a Jedi, he would be Xristos Karianis. :P He got to be the vehicle for all the thoughts and ideas that I could feebly try to incorporate into the story. I probably went overboard with his analysis on love, so I hope you'll all forgive me for that.

Lastly, there is Allie—the most accidental of all characters! I love Allie. She might have been my favorite because I just really enjoyed her simple-hearted goodness. She didn't have all these mighty emotional struggles that everyone else did, and was essentially just a good-hearted normal person who got mixed up into the story. But, in actuality, she wasn't supposed to be in the story at all. I had not planned on her existing, being a major character, or _anything _at all. Originally, the main romantic plot of the story was going to be an awkward romantic love triangle between Caius, Bastila, and Revan (if you look early enough, there are hints at this in the first four or five chapters), and Caius was eventually going to steel his nerves and lose her to Revan and whatever fate awaited them. But then Allie, despite her meek character, intruded upon the scene very brazenly.

I was writing the part where Bastila gets the _Hawk_'s navicomputer checked out by a hacker when she forced her way into the story. I initially had Dustil come up to Bastila and say, "The hacker is here—he wants to get started right away." But then I thought, all of my random NPCs seem to be men. I'll make this one a woman. So then it was "she wants to get started right away." _Then _there was a short scene where Bastila tries to get out of this anonymous woman what to do to fix the navicomputer. I wanted to have them go to Korriban in the story, so this woman mechanic gave some lengthy explanation for why she couldn't fix it immediately. The conversation dragged on, so I went back and gave the character a name: Allesandra Marlowe. Then I realized that if I followed through with this plotline, then they would have to come back and have her fix it again. Then Bastila surprised me and dropped the bomb, and asked, "Why don't you come with us?" And that's how Allie got into the story.

I find this terribly funny, but maybe I'm just being a verbose idiot. I just always reflect back on that development and laugh. Allie wasn't supposed to exist. And she most certainly was not supposed to fall in love with Caius (and vice versa). It is almost like it was out of my control. But it caused me no end of grief, because writing that subplot was the hardest part of the story. I, also, hope that that turned out well. But I really do favor Allie a lot. Anyway, that's why she exists. And honestly, her forcing her way into the narrative is one of the reasons I think I like her so much.

_ That was a lot devoted to one character.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story, and I hope I didn't offend you with this long-winded rant that comes seemingly from left field. This story is very special to me because it's my first one, and I'll always remember it, so I really wanted to share these stories. I do miss the story and especially these characters. And sometimes, for some reason, I'm randomly reminded of them by random things. This story was very musically influenced, and a lot of time music reminds me of the characters. Whenever I hear **Better to Be **by **Liam Finn **I think of Allie and her dress on the Hasan planet (which was my favorite part of the story). **Pilot **by **Mayday **reminds me of Elliott. **Mother Superior **by **Coheed and Cambria **makes me think of Bastila's death at the hands of Ardashir. **Hurt **by **Johnny Cash **_really _reminds me of Revan. And, even though I'm somewhat ashamed to admit it, the whole Coldplay album **Viva La Vida Or Death and All His Friends **brings back vivid images of the dead planet Samarkand. That album came out right when I was writing that part, and I listened to it a lot while writing two of the major chapters there. So now it always reminds me of it, even though Coldplay is somewhat of a guilty pleasure. :p

That was a lot of random crap. I hope I didn't forget anything. Once again, I thank all of you who read this thing and are stomaching this shameless "credits" that I'm writing now. I do really appreciate everything you've all done. You just rock. And, if any of you are interested, I'm currently working another long story. I'll end the shameless plug there, but if you're interested, you can find it through my profile. Who knows, maybe that'll increase its traffic. :p

Anywho, that's it. Thanks again, you're all awesome. And that, finally, concludes the saga that is **The Weight of Glory. **I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

Thanks, and God bless, my friends.


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